


Ficlets

by shinkonokokoro



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who (2005), Merlin - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Stargate SG-1, The Avengers
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 22,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tumblr fics I've written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Merlin!Vengers

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Merlin crossover with the Avengers

Arthur was in a meeting when his communicator went off. He swore under his breath and made his excuses, sprinting to the roof where his mini-jet waited.

“Merlin!”

“Already en route!” Merlin’s voice echoed in his ear.

“Great. Gwen?”

“On my way!”

“Knights?”

“Present!” Gwaine chimed cheekily. “Morgana again…”

Arthur swore again.

“Come on, Arthur, she’s your sister,” Merlin said.

“Yeah, and she hates me,” he grumbled as the other knights all checked in. He set the jet to autopilot on the GPS location and then stripped down and changed into his armour, zipping on the synthetic material that formed to his skin and grabbed up his sword, feeling the familiar zing of energy as it lay in his hand. 

Merlin snorted over the comms. “Well, at least she doesn’t  _really_  want to kill you. She kind of hates my guts.”

“You  _are_  our best weapon,” Gwen said.

“Here I am, boys!” Merlin said, the sounds of battle faintly heard in the reverb of his comm.

Arthur set down close and charged out, sword in hand. Merlin was slinging magic at Morgana. He was holding back. For Arthur’s sake, he knew. Merlin could have taken Morgana at any time, but he didn’t want to hurt her because she was Arthur’s. And Arthur still hoped to reach her. Bring her back from madness. Bring her back from hate.

The knights had her seemingly backed into a corner. But she was laughing and lazily slinging spells at them. Gwaine and Perce pushed forwards while Lance and Leon circled from the back. Gwen darted in to be the distraction, throwing knives and poultices that Merlin spelled beforehand. 

Morgana threw them all back. Arthur walked towards her slowly.

“Arthur, dear. You’re never going to surprise me like that.”

“I’m not surprising you, Morgana. I want to talk.”

She rolled her eyes. “You always want to talk, Arthur. And yet you carry a big sword. Over-compensating?” she sneered.

Arthur shook his head. “I just want… I want you back, Morgs. You’re destroying London. And taking over the world was never your style.”

“Stop it!” She hissed, flinging spells at him.

He dodged left and rolled back to his feet. “Can we—will you just  _stop_  this?!”

Her laugh spoke of madness. “You wish, little brother!”

“I do…” he said quietly, slashing through her attack while Merlin shifted to a hawk to rain down spells from above.

Morgana cried out and fell. Stumbling to her feet, she screamed at them all, power behind it sweeping them away. Then she vanished.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. The Knights were getting to their feet, Gwen helping Leon with a nasty bump on his head. Merlin dropped down next to Arthur, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Arthur retorted, even though it sounded too bitter for that. He resisted throwing his hand off, knowing Merlin only meant well. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know…” Merlin said quietly. Then lifted his hand to restore the damage done to property. “Home?” he asked when he was finished.

“Home,” Arthur said tiredly.

“There’s always next time.”

He nodded. Next time. Next time would come. And so would the time after that. And after that. 


	2. Time Warp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve get thrown back to Albion-England and run into Merlin and Arthur.

The rise of one of his meters told him the spell was coming. He grabbed Steve out of the way, twisting so his metal back would be hit instead of Steve, who had dropped his shield. Steve opened his mouth to say something, the sound lost in the twist and warp of the world around them. Then everything went black. 

~ ~ ~

Tony woke to darkness and the sound of bickering. One, necessary, because the hang-over he had was pretty atrocious. The other, annoying and he was going to cut someone if they didn't stop it. 

He groaned.

The voices stopped.

There was a clanging sound. Metal on metal. 

"Hello? Sir knight?"

"Merlin, you  _idiot,_ that's no way to do it."

Tony yelped and thrashed as something smacked into his helmet.

"You. Get up. And I demand you tell me who you are."

"Like that will work better," the other voice, Merlin?, muttered.

"Jarvis?" Tony croaked. 

"What did he say?"

"Steve? Jarvis. Where's Steve?" The interface stayed dark. He reached up and flicked the manual switches for helmet removal and blinked up into a green canopy with two heads looking down at him. Two separate heads. Attached to two bodies. People. Tony breathed. 

"Who are you?" the blonde one asked.

"Tony. Who are you?"

"King Arthur."

He barked a laugh. "You're kidding me."

The blonde's brows furrowed. "I am not!"

"Hey. Uh. Seen my friend? Dressed like an American flag?"

Two pairs of brows furrowed.

"Shit." Tony got to his feet, power-down making it a little more awkward to pilot the suit. "Where am I?"

"Albion!" The dark-haired one, Merlin?, said with a grin. "Your armour is very strange."

"Shit. Shit shit shit."

"Excrement?" Arthur said, tilting his head.

"Shit," Tony said again. "So you're really King Arthur and the wizard Merlin?"

Merlin's smile died and he paled. "M-me?! A wizard? I--what? No! Don't be ridiculous!"

Arthur gave him a daft look. "Wait a minute! This is all getting out of hand. "Tony. From where do you come?"

He opened his mouth to answer 'the future,' but decided that probably wasn't very wise. Thankfully, Steve was calling his name. "Steve! Over here! I'm here!"

Arthur was immediately on guard, Merlin tensing next to him.

"Relax, you guys. Jesus, you're young. It's just my friend. Steve. You know. The one I told you about?"

Steve lumbered into view, admirably quiet through the brush. "Tony! Are you okay?"

"Fine. Fine, Steve. Meet King Arthur and Merlin."

"The wizar--"

"I'm not a wizard!" Merlin interrupted, voice a little shrill.

"Merlin! Calm  _down_. You're far too inept to be a wizard," Arthur snorted. "You are dressed strangely. From where do you come?"

"Uh...what year is it?"

"We're from very far away!" Tony interrupted quickly. "This is Sir Steven Rogers. Of. Of... Brooklyn! And I am Sir Tony Stark of...Malibu!"

Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"We need to confer!" Tony said quickly, tromping over to Steve. "Steve. We're in deep shit. Jarvis doesn't work--of course not. Because we're in like... I don't know. The 6th century? We're back in time. Like,  _a lot_ , back in time. And I don't know how to fix it!" Tony hissed, grabbing Steve's shoulder.

Steve's eyes glazed over a second, and Tony had to grab him with both hands to keep him from falling over. "Oh," he said faintly.

Tony stared at his face, Merlin and Arthur arguing behind them.

"They can't be bad people, Arthur."

"Merlin, you are  _always_ willing to trust strangers."

"I am not! You--" He took a deep breath. "I just feel that they're fine. A... an instinct. We should bring them back with us before dark comes. It gets cold out here, and they obviously are a far ways from home. They don't even have horses or gear. They were probably burgled and--"

"Enough, you bleeding heart," the king said fondly. "You're ridiculous." Then he cleared his throat. "You are both welcome to be guests of Camelot, if you wish."

"We'd love to!" Tony blurted. "I need to get my armour off. This shit is heavy."

Steve nodded and trailed in Tony's wake, hand clenched tightly around Tony's, as they made their way to Camelot.

"It's... smaller than I expected," Tony said. His armour clanged as Steve's elbow connected with his middle, Steve muttering a curse. He grinned. 

"Tony. We're guests," he muttered instead. 

Once they were safely deposited in a giant stone room--that was drafty, thank you very much--Tony stripped off his armour and piled it in the corner. "Too bad they don't have any do-not-disturb signs..."

"Shut up, Tony," Steve grumbled. He propped his shield next to Tony's armour and nearly crawled out of his uniform. 

Tony snickered at his white briefs. "Cap, when we get back, please  _please_ let me buy you underwear."

Steve grumbled something again. Then stated at the knock on the door. "Uh... Come in?"

Merlin strode in. "I've got clothes for you to use. You didn't have any supplies with you."

"Uh. Right," Tony said, blanket wrapped around his waist. "Thanks. You  _are_ a wizard, right? I mean, legends weren't false?"

Merlin paled again and grabbed Tony's wrist.

"Woah! Woah!" He threw up his other hand. "I'm not going to hurt you--Steve,  _Steve_! Chill. Everybody. Chill."

"How do you know?"

"We're from the future," Steve said.

Merlin's eyes went wide, jaw dropping. 

"It's true. You and King Arthur? You're legends!" Tony grinned. "Everyone knows about you guys."

Merlin's eyes watered up. From not blinking or suddenly being infamous, Tony couldn't tell. "I... we are?"

"Yes," Steve said, taking clothes from Merlin's arms. "How do I..."

Merlin jerked. "Let me help you." He dropped Tony's wrist.

"No! That's fine. You don't have to," Steve said quickly. "Just...show me."

Watching Merlin direct Steve, Tony managed to get himself clothed, looking at his reflection in the shitty excuse for a mirror. "Jesus," he muttered.

"You're both invited to dinner," Merlin said quietly. "And please. Stop talking about wizards in front of Arthur. He doesn't know."

"He doesn't know," Tony repeated flatly. "He doesn't know? That you're an insanely powerful wizard?"

Merlin flushed, ears going bright red. God, they were big. "Um. Right. Doesn't know. He'd kill me if he did."

"I don't think so," Steve said.

Merlin shook his head. "Magic is forbidden in Camelot. Um. Arthur's eating in his rooms tonight. But you're both invited to dine with us."

"Thanks." Tony fluffed his hair and spared a second to mourn the loss of hair gel, sunglasses, and his shower. Amongst a million and a half other things. "Well. Let's go then!" And followed Steve, admiring his legs.

The Merlin that was here was definitely not the one that Tony expected. Watching him play serving boy to the boy king, Tony could only shake his head. Steve's eyes darted after them both as well, watching the power play between the two. It was obviously dialled down, Merlin taking orders from Arthur, however grudging. And then he sat next to Arthur while they ate,  Tony telling stories of 'their land.' Time-adjusted tales of New York. Steve snorted several times. Well. This whole thing  _was_ surreal. 

"At least these guys sleep in style!" Tony said flopping down on the giant bed after dinner. "Oh. Uh. Just kidding. These are actual thrushes or something. Not so comfortable as my memory foam..."

Steve laughed before hesitantly making the observation, "We're sharing?"

"We asked for one room," Tony said, cracking an eye and raising his head from the cradle of his hands.

Steve flushed. 

Tony laughed. "Come on. It's not the first time we've been close."

"But sleeping together."

"Steve Rogers. Are your propositioning me?"

"Stop it," Steve muttered, looking away. "What do they sleep in here?"

Tony rolled off the bed and padded over to the wardrobe. "These floors could really use some self-heating... Ah. Wow. This is hideous." Tony tossed Steve one of the night shifts, pulling off his elaborate medieval clothes. "Okay. Wow. Uncomfortable." He looked over at Steve and burst out laughing. 

"Tony!"

"We look ridiculous!" he panted, gripping his knees while he cackled. Eventually, Steve joined in and they were both howling on the flagstones, draft between their legs. Tony finally calmed down enough to get up off his back and onto the bed. "Right. Well. This is fun. Hopefully, maybe tomorrow, we can figure out a way to get back. Get the wizard to help." Tony yawned.

Steve slipped beneath the sheets on the other side of the bed and leaned over to blow the candle out. "Leave one on? To see?"

"Sure," Tony murmured, turned towards Steve's warmth, already half asleep. He remembered faintly that he should have mentioned to Steve his propensity for spooning. 

~ ~ ~ 

The next morning, he was curled around Steve, whose back was arched into him. Tony sighed. Predictable. Apparently, he didn't mention anything to Steve. Or he was just that good of a ninja spoon-er that Steve was defenseless. He shifted, immediately regretting the decision because...well.  Morning wood. Tony slicked his tongue over his teeth, mouth tasting...gross...after a night of mead and venison. Rich food. Good food. But rich. And full of bacteria that were currently making his mouth taste foul. 

He carefully disentangled himself from Steve and got out of bed, thankful for the pitcher and bowl of water. He grabbed a nearby cloth and wet it, cleaning his teeth and swishing some water.

"Not exactly a five-star," Steve mumbled, sitting up and stretching.

Tony grunted.

"I slept well though." Steve tossed off the covers and padded over. "Once I got used to having you as a blanket." Steve blinked, surprise registering on his face beneath the sudden flush. "OH God. I just said that."

"No biggie, Rogers," Tony shrugged.

"I..." Steve ducked his head. "I liked it."

"Me lying on you?"

"Tony, I've not been...unaware of how you look at me."

Tony swallowed. He'd thought he'd been subtle. "I'll stop. Sorry. I'll stop. I just--"

"I just said I like it," Steve soldiered on. "And I...I like  _you_."

This was... This was unexpected. He swallowed again, looking past Steve. Looking at anything  _but_ Steve. Processing. "Oh." 

"Oh?" Now Steve looked uncomfortable.

"I don't..." Oh shit. Now he looked worse. Tony lurched forwards and kissed him. For lack of anything better to say.

"Oh!" A plate clattered.

Steve jumped away and flushed as Merlin pointedly did not look at them, back turned, picking up the fallen tray of food. 

"Sorry! Knocking! I always forget. I just...sorry! I didn't see... There was nothing--"

"It's fine, Merlin," Tony said. "You keep our secret, we'll keep yours."

Steve cleared his throat and moved to the table. "We did share a room. Um. Breakfast?"

"Yup!" His eyes glowed and the food looked good as new. "Arthur wanted to invite you hunting. If you... I dunno. Do you hunt?"

"Uh...Not really. Actually," Tony said, joining them at the table. "I wanted to pick your brain." Merlin abruptly looked alarm. "No! Not that. I wanted to...ask you questions. Talk with you. Sorry. Manner of speech. Weird. Different times. Uh. Magic."

"Yes?" Merlin answered, looking cagey. 

"Could you transport us back to the future?"

"I don't think..." Merlin shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know anything about time travel or if it's even possible. I'd have to ask Gaius."

"Gaius?" Steve asked, taking a big bite of bread.

"My mentor," Merlin explained. "He's usually helpful with those types of things."

"Especially since you can't seem to do it on your own," Arthur said, sauntering in the door. "Honestly, Merlin. I send you to bring them food and you take forever."

Merlin whipped around, pale as the awful night shifts that Tony and Steve wore. "Arthur!"

"Gods, relax, you idiot. I've known for ages."

Merlin's jaw dropped. "You  _have_?!"

"You honestly think I'm that  _stupid_?" Arthur tapped a finger to Merlin's temple. 

"Most days," Merlin replied, still dazed.

Arthur swat at Merlin who ducked expertly. He shook his head. "You were the one who was being dodgy about it."

"Great!" Tony interjected. "Now that all of our problems are solved, can we get back to how we can get home?"

"Home?" Arthur said. "You can borrow horses if you--"

"No. We're from the future," Tony said.

Arthur levelled a flat stare at him. 

"Honestly. And you're huge. Big legend. But you guys don't have technology, which is kind of my forte, so I'm a little SOL."

"Ess oh el?" Merlin echoed.

"Shit outta luck," Steve said. "We don't have any way to get back."

"Right. And since--" Tony clutched his stomach as the world swirled around and swallowed him up into blackness.

~ ~ ~ 

Wakefulness came with light this time and only some mild nausea. He blinked blurred eyes until vision was clear and this time, was looking up into the too-amused faces of his team-mates.

"I hate magic," he muttered.

They burst out laughing, even while Natasha offered him a hand.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said, realising that he was still wearing the night shift. "Hilarious. Laugh some more. Where's Steve."

"Here," his friend called quietly.

Tony looked over to the other medical bed and sighed with relief. "Great. Good. You're fine? You're fine. I'm fine. Uh. My guess is Richards? Glad we're back. This is-- _shit_! My armour!" Thor's arms held him back.

"Peace, my friend. Your armour is fine. It is here. Calm yourself."

Tony did. Once he saw it sitting over in the corner. "Jarvis."

"Here, sir."

He relaxed and sank back onto the firm mattress. "Great."

"Richards just pulled everything that was from our time back to the future," Natasha explained. 

"Huh. Good job, Richards. And we got to keep these lovely nightgowns."

"You said it, not me, Stark," Clint said.

"Watch it, Barton. I'll make your arrows so they explode with candy not C4."

"SHIELD doctors are on their way--Tony. Woah, easy!"

"Steve and I don't need doctors. We were just transported through time to ancient Albion. We're fine." He moved around Thor to Steve who was sitting on his bed, legs hanging over the edge. "Right, Steve?"

"I feel fine. But we should probably--"

"Go upstairs for some rest. A nap. Right? Good idea, Steve," Tony overrode him and grabbed his wrist. "I feel some nap time coming on." 

The light went on in Steve's eyes and he gave Tony a small smile. "Yeah. I'll be fine after that. We'll...see you later!" Then pushed past Tony, dragging him to Tony's room.

Tony laughed under his breath, hurrying after him. The benefit to those stupid night shifts? Easy access. He grinned and locked the door behind them.


	3. You Are Drunk, My Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is drunk. John has to deal with it.

John wished he were more sober. That way he would enjoy this a lot more. Or at least, remember a lot more. It was already enjoyable. And when he was really tipsy, everything Sherlock did was hilarious!

Currently, he was wearing a lampshade, speaking in pig-Latin?, and crawling across the floor in the imitation of a python. A python  _specifically,_ John. It's  _different_.

Lestrade had said they were at the pub. And John, knowing Sherlock wasn't a drinker  _or_ one for public outings with the team, decided to meet them after work. Well. Pick Sherlock up. He was upsetting people with his deductions. So he finished Sherlock's pint when he got there and was given Sally's to finish as well. There might have been another, but right now, John was too distracted giggling over Sherlock trying to wrap himself around John's body--like a python. 

"Sherlock. Sherlock, I'm going to fall. I can't--" Giggle "--keep my balance! You have to--!" Well. There they went. Down. At least no one cracked his head on the table this time. "Get...off...giant...oaf!"

Sherlock hissed in his face.

John gave him a look that should have clearly broadcast exactly how unimpressed he was. "Off me, Sherlock!  _Fuck_! Is that a pen? Dear God, please tell me that's a pen. A torch? A pocket torch?" He whimpered as Sherlock plastered himself across John. "Not good.  Not good!  _Sher_ lock!"

Grunting, his flatmate rolled off and got to his knees, swaying slightly.

"Okay. This is enough. Bed. Now."

"I quite...'gree, J'n. Good h'idea..." Sherlock mumbled. Sherlock latched onto his arm and used John to pull himself to his feet, once John was firmly planted. "C'mon..."

John rolled his eyes and followed Sherlock's weaving form to his bedroom. Managing to get him undressed with no disasters, he was completely unprepared for Sherlock to tackle him onto the bed. John rolled on instinct, ending with Sherlock pinned into the mattress. 

He was grinning. Oh God, he was grinning. 

John moved to scramble off quickly, but Sherlock's hands gripped his hips while his own hips rolled upwards. "Uh-uh. No. No! Not happening. Sherlock. You are drunk, and this? This is not okay." He muttered some choice curses as Sherlock widened his eyes and pouted--honest to goodness pouted. "No! I can't-- _we_ can't! You! Can't!"

"Want it. Really want it," Sherlock mumbled huskily dropping his eyes to look up at John through his lashes and then tilted his head. 

John groaned, thinking of anything-- _anything_ \--else at the moment. Cadavers, heart surgery, stomach pumping.

"John... John..." Sherlock rumbled. He squirmed a little, coy smile tilting his lips in ways that ran wild in John's imagination. 

"Oh you've got to be kidding me." He made one more effort at getting off Sherlock, fighting him off.

Sherlock merely wrapped his limbs around John and clung harder. "C'mon, John. S'okay."

He tried dead weight, but then Sherlock rolled him over and snaked down his body, never cutting eye contact until his lips closed around John. Then he stopped fighting. Maybe he wouldn't remember it in the morning. Maybe he would, some other part of his brain said. And maybe he'll want to do it again? John groaned. He hoped so.


	4. I Am Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John  
> Sherlock returns home not quite like he left it, John thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this picture: 

“Hello, Sherlock,” John greeted without looking up at his flatmate.

Sherlock grunted, dropping his water-logged coat on the floor, not bothering to take of his shoes.

“Sherlock?” John frowned, finally looking up from his laptop. He never just dropped his coat on the floor. Especially when it was so wet. “Are you alright?” Sherlock was pale. Too pale.

“John…” He said. John’s eyes widened at the deeper-than-usual timber, his eyes heavy-lidded as he approached the sofa.

“Are…you alright?” he asked again, nerves frissoning down his spine. 

Sherlock licked his lips, staring at him unerringly.

“Can I help you with something?”

Sherlock grinned disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

John thought he saw teeth. Well. One usually saw teeth, of course, when a person grinned. He swallowed. But these were a different type of teeth. He frowned. “Sherlock… You didn’t… You’re not…”

“Not what, John?” Sherlock asked, husky, leaning into John’s space. His gaze hadn’t moved from it’s fixation on John’s shoulder.

No, John realised, his  _neck_.  _Shit_. This wasn’t… He swallowed again. Wrong move. Sherlock licked his lips. “Sher…” Cleared his throat. “Sherlock… You don’t…”

“Oh, but I do…” Sherlock crooned. Lightning fast, his hands had grabbed John’s wrists, pinning them to the sofa cushions.

“Sherlock…” John nearly whined, breath hitching.

This time, when Sherlock grinned, John could see  _all_  of his teeth. Including the ones that were extended. For biting.

John struggled. “Sherlock! Sherlock, no! You don’t want to—this is bad! This is very much  _not. Good_!” He arched away from Sherlock’s open mouth, hot breath sending shivers down his spine. How on bloody earth did he not  _notice_  this. He had seen some strange things with Sherlock, but how on earth had he not noticed that his flatmate was a  _fucking vampire_. John jerked on his wrists. Oh God. He was going to have bruises on his wrists. That is… If he survived having his blood sucked out by his flatmate. “Sherlock…!” he pleaded, voice high with panic.

Sherlock licked his neck.

“Oh God oh God oh God…!”

Licked again.

John squeezed his eyes shut tight, jaw clenched. Felt the points of Sherlock’s teeth on his neck. He nearly passed out. 

Then it was all gone. John cracked an eyelid, seeing Sherlock standing across the room, biting down on his lip. As soon as he saw John watching him, he burst into laughter, collapsing back on the chair.

“What…?” John felt dazed. Nothing was real anymore. Sherlock’s teeth were gone.

“I didn’t know you believed so strongly in the supernatural, John,” Sherlock said when he could breathe, grinning widely. With  _normal teeth_. 

“You utter twat!” John cried out, body loosening. “You utter cock-sucking bloody bastard!” Sherlock tittered some more. Though after a minute, John couldn’t help but join in. “I can’t believe you…!”

“You believed it!”

“Arse!”

Sherlock grinned wider. John shook his head.


	5. When We Were Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saw this pic on tumblr and felt inspired:  
> 

M and Mummy were good friends once upon a time. When ‘Mummy’ and ‘M’ were not their names. In fact, they went to boarding school together. They lived in neighbouring rooms in the dormitory. 

They may have gotten into a spot of trouble while they were in their school days. They discovered, however, that they were never caught. So they got into some more trouble.

They did have fun.

Then they graduated. Mummy went off and married some chap, had two kids, while M went on to run a secret government agency. Neither one of them particularly regretted her life. One of Mummy’s sons grew up and joined the government. M was glad to have him on her side.

The other.

The other was always in some heap of trouble or another. 

This time, M found out because Mummy showed up at the (secret) end of the year soiree in her old-fashioned car instead of through the phone lines, like usual.

As M listened to what the dear boy had gotten himself into this time, she couldn’t help the horrified stare she threw in Maryanne’s direction. “He did  _what_!?”

“So you can see, Mary, why I’ve decided to enlist your help. My son is simply  _too_  stubborn for his own good, and entirely too stupid for his own good.

M merely hummed in thought before shifting her fur around her shoulders and leaning back into the seat. “Very well. Count me in.”

“Excellent,” Maryanne purred, and the engine purred with her as she stepped on the gas.


	6. I Bet You We All Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fic prompt: Clint/Nat/Steve  
> The game is on

After a bout of rather acrobatic and delicious sex, Clint lay half draped over Nat, waiting for his breath to even out. Natasha’s skin was warm and smooth, taut in all the right places, full of give in others. He smiled. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Your awesome body,” he mumbled against her stomach.

Natasha snorted, the sound echoing strangely through his head.

“Ever want to do a threesome?”

“Rogers?”

“How—”

“Clint. You stare at him longer than any of the others.”

“It could be Tony. Dude. The things I hear about that man in the bedroom…”

“You think he could beat us?” Natasha purred.

He shivered, delighted. “Who knows. It would just be… Never mind. Yeah, Rogers. He’s just so  _big_ _._ You know?”

Nat snorted again. “You are a base creature and I don’t know why I sleep with you.”

“Because I win at sex.”

“Who knows. Maybe I’ll switch to Rogers.”

Clint sat. “I think I might be offended.”

“Fine,” Natasha grinned, lethal and all in the eyes. “Points then, to whoever can seduce him to our bed for a threesome.”

Clint grinned. “You’re on.”

Clint knew that Steve maybe didn’t have much of a clue when it came to sex. So he flirted. Obviously. While Stark glared at him fiercely. And Fury too. And Bruce. And Coulson. Hell, he was an obnoxious flirting shit.  _Everyone_  glared at him. 

He was good at it though. But while he went brash and obvious, Natasha did soft and subtle, twisting Steve into a frenzy until he didn’t even know he was being seduced. She’d ratchet up the tension and then leave Steve looking sad and confused in the halls of SHIELD.

Clint loved watching her work.

About a week and a half of their stunts, Clint and Nat were swaying down the hall together. Steve was waiting outside their door, arms folded, looking stern.

“Alright. I know that you guys are trying to seduce me. I’m not stupid. No matter what you think.”

Clint didn’t look at Nat. Nat didn’t look at Clint.

Steve sighed. “So here’s the deal. I’m assuming this was a bet with each other. So I’ll go to bed with you  _both_ , and you’ll stop all of this, yeah?”

He could feel the surprise radiating off of Nat, his own eyes widening at the proposal. He looked at her. Grinned like a shark. “He’s so quaint. I love it. I guess neither of us wins this one.”

Natasha’s smile was all in her eyes. “Fair enough, Captain. Sure you can handle us.”

Steve nodded once. “We’ll find out.”

“Perfect,” Natasha purred, pushing him back into the room. “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

“I sure as hell am…” Clint quipped, closing and locking the door behind them as they commenced in the removal of clothes.


	7. Sherlock: Kiss-O-Gram

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Sherlock and Amy Pond work together at a slightly-skeezy Kissogram that does a little business as a Strip-O-Gram on the side. Shenanegans ensue when Amy is hired as a welcome home present when John gets out of hospital, but due to a mix up, Sherlock (working undercover) is sent instead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also:  
> 

“Kiss-o-gram for John Watson,” a deep voice said as John opened the door. And stared. He may have stared for more than necessary. Or socially acceptable. Who the hell—oh. Harry. As a joke. Had to be. “You would be John Watson?” the man was saying.

“O-oh—” He broke off, clearing his throat and began anew. “Yes. I’m John Watson.”

The man nodded, pulled a note out of his pocket and read, “Dear John. Hope you’re feeling better. Here’s a kiss from me! Enjoy.”

“It’s not signed?”

The man arched a brow and shook his head. Then stepped forward.

“Wait wait wait!” John threw his hands up in a panic. The man’s brow furrowed in consternation, the corners of his mouth dipping down. “I just…”

The man rolled his eyes. “The girl who was hired couldn’t make it tonight. Unexpected personal business. She wouldn’t say. I’m filling in.”

“Does it matter if your customers would rather be kissed by a girl?”

The man smirked suddenly. “But you wouldn’t.” Then he stepped forward confidently, over John’s threshold and gripped him tight by the back of his neck and pulled him forwards to kiss him sweetly, licking his mouth open until they were both panting.

“Is that how you usually treat your customers…?” John asked, dazed.

“Not usually, no. Sherlock Holmes.”

“John Watson,” he replied dumbly.

“I know,” Sherlock said, voice full of amusement. 

John blinked at him and then, embarrassingly, broke off into giggles. Until Sherlock grinned at him, chuckling as well.


	8. Sherlock: Owing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock owes Irene. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Sherlock's Shoes, this picture:  
>   
> and "Sherlock has been in Irene's closet again"

Sherlock has never been a particularly good houseguest. Ask anyone. If you ask Mycroft, he’d tell you he would prefer to tie his brother up while he’s not in the room so he cannot snoop without Mycroft’s supervision. If you ask Greg, he’ll tell you with a tired sigh that he couldn’t possible be less crazily organised, and hates it when Sherlock inflicts his system upon Greg’s humble home. If you ask Harry, she’d ignore Sherlock complete and turn to yell at John to get his fuck-all, crazy-arse boyfriend out of her home and never bring him back. (Though that might have been the point in the first place, on Sherlock’s part.)

If you ask Irene, her eyes will light up and them promptly go angry and she’ll tell you flatly that Sherlock owes her. She wouldn’t tell you any more than that, but there’s certainly,  _of course_ , more to the story.

Sherlock stayed briefly with Irene while he was ‘dead,’ and Irene, of course, had to conduct her business, so she was frequently out and about. The first time, she came home to find that Sherlock had nearly turned her tidy apartment inside out. She chastised him (okay, threatened) severely, and then ordered him to stay out.

Of course, the next time she went out and returned home, she found Sherlock casually prancing around her apartment in heels. “Oh.” She didn’t know quite how Sherlock fit into her shoes. Well she did have big feet.

“These are surprisingly comfortable.”

She stared a minute and then sighed.

The next week she came home and found Sherlock lounging in one of her robes and another pair of heels.

When it happened a third time, she snapped. “Alright. That’s enough. No more using my stuff. Get out.”

Sherlock smirked. He was gone the next day. So were 2 pairs of Louboutains, a Jimmy Choo, and her favourite Manolo Blahniks.

So yes. Sherlock owes her.


	9. Avengers:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some times when even Steve has to give up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of Jason Mraz's song, "I Won't Give Up"

“Tony, Tony listen, please, won’t you just listen!” Steve pleaded.

Tony whirled, the drink in his hand swirling. “Steve! Jesus! Don’t you ever give up! We’re done! Finished! Caput! Broken!” he half-shouted, voice breaking and rough. “Can’t you get that through your thick head?” He paused half a second. “Of course not. Captain America. Embodiment of all that is good in the world. Knock yourself out, soldier,” he said bitterly. “At least I know a lost cause when I see one.”

“Only because of  _you_ , Tony! I don’t want this to end! I just want… I want  _us_! How we were! We were good together! We  _had_  something!” Steve took a step closer. If he could just touch, he could change Tony’s mind. “You’re… you’re drunk, Tony. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Tony snorted. “I think, more than any other time,  _this_  is when I know best what I’m saying.”

Jerking back, Steve flushed as he felt his eyes grow hot. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” Tony sagged back against his desk, papers spilled everywhere, a chair turned over. All evidence of their earlier fight. 

If Steve concentrated he could almost feel where Tony’s fist had hit his cheek. The mark was long gone. If there had been one that lasted in the first place. Tony had cussed wildly and cradled his hand. Steve had been moved enough to move towards him, but a snarl from Tony pushed him back. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted finally.

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony slurred tiredly. “I think we’ve had enough. Steve. This isn’t good. And if I can admit that something isn’t good, I think it’s well and truly hit rock bottom. Won’t’you say?” He gave a wry sort of grin that told Steve exactly how bad Tony knew it was. “We shouldn’t argue so much. We’re just too…”

“If you say ‘different,’ I’m going to hit you.”

A small barked laugh and Tony downed the rest of his scotch. “Whatever. We’re too opposite. We’re… I dunno. We’re too much, not enough for each other. And it’s breaking into everything. We need to just stop. We need to stop.”

Steve straightened his spine. “I…” He sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Jesus, you’re not going to try, are you?”

“Tony…” He choked out.

“Good night, Steve.” Tony turned his back to him, the strength gone from him. 

“I still love you, Tony,” Steve said quietly, shuffling back to the doors of Tony’s office.

“Shut the doors on your way out.”

Steve nodded, misery roiling his stomach into an uncomfortable froth. He allowed himself one last look at Tony before he shut the doors and crept back to his room. Shutting the door quietly, he dropped his forehead against it and quietly panicked as he wondered if there was a way that this could ever be better.


	10. Tony, Will you ma--

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve/Tony please! Steve's plans to propose keep getting interrupted, until one day he just blurts it all out. Shocking Tony... and the rest of the people around them. +100 points if it all happens in a public area. :3

The first time: “Tony, will you—” Steve jumped, Tony snatching his hands out of his and falling off the sofa to grab his Avengers card that was squawking horribly. Steve sighed and went to get dressed.

The second time: They laid in bed, cuddling. Steve was wrapped in Tony’s arms (and legs). He fidgeted with his hands a little while until Tony asked, “What’s the matter?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“A dangerous past-time, I know.”

“Don’t quote Disney movies at me, Tony,” Steve said, grinning despite himself. “I—”

“There better not be any naked asses in there!” Clint shouted, banging on the door before poking his head in. “We gotta go, people! Fury announced a briefing! We’ve got trouble.” Clint left.

Steve dropped his head back onto the pillow with a heavy sigh.

“Tell me later,” Tony said, rolling out of bed to get dressed.

The third time: Steve had taken to carrying the ring with him everywhere. In case.  You know. An opportunity presented itself. So after Tony got back from a quick trip to the West Coast, he greeted him at the landing strip and decided to take him out to dinner. They had seafood, for a change. Tony was slowing down. Steve finished his lobster tail and was about to reach into his pocket for the ring when Tony suddenly bolted. Blinking at his empty chair a half a second, he lurched after him towards the back of the restaurant. To find Tony in the bathroom, puking. He sighed. Not tonight it seemed.

“Sorry…” Tony wheezed. “Think I ate something bad…”

The fourth time: Tony was in the hospital getting some stitches. Nothing big. But it had still made Steve’s heart jump to see him hurt. On the way home, he fingered the box in his pocket. He cleared his throat, looking at Tony across from him in the limo. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, Cap.”

“You doing okay?”

“Just fine.”

Steve nodded and gave him a small smile, reaching out for his hands. “Glad you’re okay.”

Tony got up and put himself in Steve’s lap, wrapping Steve’s arms around him. “Yeah. I’m fine. No biggie. Just be another cool scar I can brag about to the ladies.”

“What ladies,” Steve demanded playfully.

“I mean. To you. Of course.”

He laughed, pushing his nose behind Tony’s ear. “I wanted to ask you: Tony, will you ma—ah!” They were flung sideways as Happy whipped around a corner.

“Sorry, boss! There was some kid that just ran inta th’road!”

Steve grit his teeth and shut his mouth, stewing the rest of the ride home.

The fifth time Steve was interrupted by Thor running through the entertainment room naked after Parker who had his shorts.

The sixth time, Steve nearly decked the paparazzi who intruded on the moment. Tony didn’t understand what had him so worked up.

The seventh time, Steve was glaring holes in the meeting room table on the helicarrier, leg bouncing. He needed to ask Tony. ASAP.  He needed to. Otherwise he was just going to…going to…implode! The meeting let out without Steve hearing a single word. And as they walked back to the hanger where the Quinjet was, Tony laughed with Thor, suggesting they go out and eat. Some of the junior agents around stared at them like they were awed, Clint and Nat were chuckling about something. And Bruce was speaking with Parker about something. Balling his hands, Steve stopped walking, staring at his feet. “Tony!”

Everyone slowed, Tony looking back to him, face expectant. “Yeah, Steve?”

He took a deep breath and blurted, “Marry me!”

The Avengers gaped at him. Clint snorted in disbelieving laughter once, Tony’s jaw on the ground. “What?”

The hanger was now, of course, absolutely silent. And all attention turned to Tony. Who, despite his superpower at being not embarrassed, was definitely flushing a bit.

“Anthony Edward Stark. Marry me. I have been  _trying_ to ask you for the past  _three_  weeks, and none of them have worked. I need you to answer me now,” Steve said, looking at Tony, his shoulders squared. 

“Uh…”

He dug the ring out of his pocket, strode over to Tony, knelt, and held it up to him. “Yes or no?”

Blues flicking around, almost nervous, Steve would have said, Tony licked his lips. “Uh. Yes.”

“What?” Steve asked, wanting to hear it louder. A smile teased at his lips, but he forced it down.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, Steve Rogers. I will marry you.”

The cheer that went up startled him and Tony as Steve stood.  _Now_  Steve felt his face heat as he pulled Tony close to hug him. The Avengers all clapped and congratulated them. Steve sighed. Relief this time. Kissed Tony again. Finally. It wasn’t to plan. But it was worth it.


	11. You Never Say You Love Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Clint and Natasha sparring

It wasn't supposed to be a sparring session. But that's how it always was. Clint would be in the gym and then Nat would drop in on him and then they'd be fighting. Which was, true to pattern, what happened this time as well. Clint had been jump-roping. Nat kicked him in the back.

Clint snorted, turning his fall into a roll and came up on his feet, hands ready. "Again?"

Natasha just grinned and flipped at him. Meeting the on-coming, he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her over him. She grabbed his shoulders and threw him to the mats. They went through a dizzying hand-to-hand volley before Tasha swept his feet out from under neath him. He grabbed her waist and took her down with him. Which only ended in Clint getting pinned before Nat did a walk-over off him. He grabbed her hands and yanked her back, flipping up to his feet himself.

Tasha levered a kick at his head which Clint flipped back to avoid. They eyed one another, circling slowly on silent feet. "Got bored?"

"Annoyed with Stark."

"Love how I'm your punching bag."

"Yeah. You do."

Clint grinned wickedly, feinting left but lunching right, tackling her around the middle. She twisted and got an elbow in his gut. Gasping, Clint rolled away. "That's not nice."

She shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. "I'm pretty annoyed."

"Why don't you decaffeinate his coffee or something..." Clint gasped. He got his fists up, blocking a swift punch, jabbing at Nat's hip. Setting her off balance, he spun, hip-checking her as he got her in a headlock. 

"That's boring. And he becomes even more annoying. A lose-lose situation," Natasha said calmly, reaching up to box Clint's ears and then throw him over her shoulder.

"Ouch..." he groaned. She grinned and did another walk-over on him, this one laying her body out on top of his. 

"Sorry, sweetheart." Pecking his lips, she was on her feet in seconds before sashaying out of the gym.

In pain and now sexually frustrated, Clint groaned again, staying still until he was sure his breath wouldn't hurt on the way down. Then he got up and headed to Nat's shower. Hers was nicer. And, undoubtedly, she'd be waiting there for him.


	12. We Didn't Mean to Park Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I know you haven't written in this fandom for awhile, but could you write a snippet about SG-1 and the Doctor meeting while wandering around the universe? And maybe one of the Companions is related to somebody else, or described in artefacts of an ancient civilization, with the Doctor either not mentioned or declared her slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I've never written SG-1 fanfic that I can recall, so this was fun, because I totally adore that show. It's also been a while since I've written Who fanfic.

"Sir... I might be mistaken, but isn't that a..police phone box?"

"A what, Carter?" Jack turned to her, looking around the planet they'd just stepped onto through the 'Gate.

"A police phone box, Sir. They use them in Britain."

"So why would it be here?" Daniel asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Sam said, walking over to it.

"Be careful!" Jack hissed.

She rolled her eyes. "What's it going to do to me? It's a box..."

"It could be sentient, Captain Carter," Teal'c added, in his usual stoic fashion.

"Well, it is actually sentient. After a manner or fashion."

They all whipped around, weapons raised to face the man who was speaking.

"Oh! It's you!" he said, a pleased grin sweeping across his face. He looked at the blonde next to him. "Rose, this is SG-1!"

"How do you know that?" Jack asked, finger on the trigger.

"Easy now, don't hurt us. We're harmless. Mostly harmless."

Rose giggled. "I know that reference."

"Actually, I do too..." Daniel said slowly. "How are you here?"

"That!" The man pointed at the blue box. "That's my ship."

"Your ship," Jack repeated flatly. "That's a box."

"No, it's a ship," the blonde said stubbornly. "And it travels in time and space."

"Time travel?" Sam said, perking up along with Daniel. "Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor! And this is Rose. She travels with me."

"Captain Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, Teal'c, and Colonel Jack O'Neill. We're from Earth, exploring."

"Like us, then," Rose said. "Were you going into town?"

"Town?" Jack said.

"Yeah. We've not been in. But there's a town," Rose pointed to a path that the SG team just now noticed. "Just down the hill."

"You're welcome to come!" the Doctor said, shoving his hands into his pockets before nearly skipping through the SG team towards the path.

"'Welcome to come,'" Jack mocked under his breath. But the team followed the Doctor and Rose down into the village where the villagers promptly prostrated themselves.

"Uh..." Daniel said eloquently.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Sorry, this sometimes happens to me. Some places seem to think of me as some sort of god... Might have been here in the future... It happe--" He trailed off as some sort of holy person brought a bouquet of flowers and a crown of what looked like lace made from gold. And offered it up to Rose.

Everyone blinked at her in surprise. Rose blinked down at the women at her feet. "Um. Thank you?" Looking at the Doctor, she stuck out her tongue, turning to beam at the woman. "So I'm either their long-lost ruler or a not-so-virgin sacrifice!" she said cheerily.

The Doctor flushed whilst Jack raised his eyebrows in her direction.

"Why did we agree to this?" he said, wishing it didn't happen every time. Carter threw him a look, holding back the giggle that Jack saw in her eyes. 

The woman at Rose's feet blinked up at her. "Barshtu Woket, we are honoured to have you amidst us, my lady. Are these offerings pleasing to you."

Looking at the Doctor, she shrugged. "Um. Yeah. They're great. Thanks. For the honour."

The woman extended the crown and the flowers whilst another came over with a cape of some sort. She arched a brow at the Doctor who looked a bit shell-shocked. "Would you and your attendants like to come for refreshments and sustenance?" the woman asked obsequiously. 

"Uh, we're not her atte--"

Rose neatly interrupted Daniel, throwing him a look. "We'd love to. That would be...brilliant."

Daniel neatly scooted up behind Rose. "Do you know what 'Barshtu Woket' means?"

"No," Rose said. "Do you?"

"Not a clue. I'm just saying... It might be best if we don't charge in there."

She rolled her eyes. "They just gave me a crown and think I'm some sort of amazing hero or something. They're not going to kill us..." Looking until her gaze settled on the Doctor fondly, she tsked. "Come here..." And held out her hand.

He shuffled forwards until he could link fingers with her.

Carter chuckled until Jack gave her a look. To which she rolled her eyes and bumped him with her arm. His lips twitched up fondly.

It turns out that they didn't want to kill Rose and her 'attendants.' They instead got incredibly satisfying alien food, soft cushions to sit on, and delicious wine that was probably not sanitary. By Earth standards. But no one really cared save for Carter. 

"They really have a thing for wolves," Daniel commented, most of the way through their meal. "Or at least...an animal that looks like a wolf."

"What?" Rose said in unison with the Doctor, sharing a glance. 

"Yeah. There, there, there..." Daniel pointed them out on the giant fire holders, on the wall, and on Rose's goblet. 

"There was another one on the building outside, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c added.

Sam nodded. "And in the mosaics..."

Rose laughed. "Oh my God..." She grinned at the Doctor. "Barshtu Woket!"

"Must mean, 'Bad Wolf,'" the Doctor finished. 

Rose quickly explained the history behind it to the confused SG team members.

Jack sighed. "How is it we're always the team that runs into the crazies..."

Sam giggled. "I guess we're just lucky."

Giving her an exasperated look that had more affection in it than was proper, Jack shook his head. "Whatever you say, Carter."

"Of course, Sir."

Rose and the Doctor watched them, holding hands beneath the table, grinning.


	13. The Green Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve getting jealous of Pepper.

Steve didn't realise he was jealous of Pepper until he tore through a 50 page file while sitting in a meeting. Before that, he just bruised his own legs with the grip in which he held them, pressed half-moon divots into his palms as he clenched his hands, breathed too heavily, and gave himself bruises on the insides of his arms that he pinched as Pepper easily invaded Tony's space, moved around him in practised ease, like a perfect ebb and flow of movement. He the ever-changing sea, Pepper the shore that just kind of had to take it. And wow, wasn't that an accurate metaphor. 

But Steve kept his mouth shut. Smiled pleasantly. Fooled nearly everyone. Save for Phil. Natasha. Thor, oddly. And Clint. Okay, so he was fooling no one. But it didn't change the fact that Steve kept his mouth shut while he quietly sketched Tony. Quietly watched Tony. Quietly wished to be with Tony. Quietly (and gleefully?) watched Tony's relationship with Pepper disintegrate. 

So when Tony announced, over a glass of Scotch that he and Pepper were officially broken up, Steve couldn't help but smile at him a little, reaching out a hand to pat his shoulder companionably. Maybe Tony would never see him, but he wouldn't have to watch two people who, if he were truly honest, he cared about now aim themselves towards an inevitable implosion. 

And, now that Steve no longer had to be jealous of Pepper, he liked her quite a bit. Smiled at her. Chatted with her (about Tony) when he had the chance. Sometimes, he caught Tony watching them and Steve wondered. Wondered if Tony still had feelings for her. Wondered what the man was thinking.

"I know," Pepper said one time. The three of them, him, Tony, and Pepper, were out to lunch, and Tony had run off on a 'phone call.'

"Sorry?" Steve blinked.

"I know you love Tony."

"S-sorry? I--"

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Why don't you tell him before he continues to try and get us together."

"Oh." Steve blinked. "Is  _that_ what he's doing?" Now that she'd pointed it out, it seemed so obvious.

"Of course. Because now that you no longer hate me for being with Tony, you're talking to me, and Tony thinks you're interested."

He ducked his head, embarrassed. "Sorry."

Waving it away with a graceful hand, Pepper sniffed. "It's fine. I don't care. You're not even my type, Steve. It's fine. I just think you should say something before the situation escalates."

But he didn't say anything. Steve didn't say anything for almost a month. He finally blurted it all out when Tony suggested Steve take Pepper for dinner--he hadn't seen her in a while after all, right?

"Stop!" Steve said, exasperated. Tony jerked back. "No. No, wait. That's--Tony. Stop trying to set me up with Pepper! I don't like Pepper, I like  _you_!"

Tony's eyes went wide. "I...what?"

Looking away, Steve dropped his eyes as he felt his face heat. "Sorry, if that makes you uncomfortable..."

"What? No. I just. Really? And we're talking about middle school liking, right?"

"What?"

"Like you want to kiss me, like?"

Steve sighed. "Yes, Tony."

"Great! 'Cause I've been wanting to devour tho--"

"I get it," Steve interrupted hurriedly. "Let's just... Yeah, we'll just take it slo--" He was interrupted himself by Tony's lips on his. And then Steve was being tumbled back onto the sofa, grunting as he landed on his back. Well. Not taking it slow was fine as well.


	14. Driving Me Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Avengers, Steve/Tony, Race Car Driving (Nascar/Daytona/Formula 1, etc) AU
> 
> I'm really proud of this one...

"Big race today."

"Mm-hm." Steve was in the zone. He was ready.

Tony skipped in front of him. "Good luck!"

"Mm," Steve replied absently. "You too."

Tony grinned, pecked him on the cheek, and left the hotel room.

~ ~ ~ ~

"And, neck-and-neck! We've got the 47 car, Rogers, in the lead; 19, Stark is right behind him! Excellent manoeuver on Stark's part, but it's a no go! Rogers cuts him off; Stark can't make the pass. Now these two drivers. Stark's been in the lead for years. Works on his own cars and is a truly innovative driver. We've been impressed with him for years! Could also be his off-the-track hobbies--but we've not seen too much from him lately. Boy's kept his nose clean. We're impressed--oh, there goes Stark again, trying for the pass on the inside. Ah! There he goes! Rogers, man, Rogers keeps right on his tail. That kid's going to be amazing. He's sharp, he's intuitive. This kid's a fantastic driver. We've seen him in some of the smaller races before we've come to Daytona. And we've been super impressed. So it's very interesting to see these two drivers--drivers at opposite ends of the spectrum, mind you, battling it out on the road. We've been seeing them fight for the lead all year, mind you."

"Especially when we've heard that there's been some animosity between these guys. Ah, we've got Rogers closing in. Man, these guys give each other no quarter. But let's keep in mind, we do have Romanoff sneaking up behind our number one and number two in the 83 car there. It's astonishing to have a female driver, but this girl can certainly play with the big boys. Oh, whoops, we've got a close call with Rogers and Stark. Stark still in the lead around Turn 2. Now, he should probably head into the pit this lap or the next. Next will be pushing it. But I doubt Rogers will give him any quarter. So. We'll see."

"A little bit about our other racers... We've got Thor in the 12 car barrelling up behind our 83 girl. He's recovered nicely from his crash--it turns out, luckily for him, it was only superficial damage. So he's a bit behind, but doing really well. Banner in the 33 car is not doing to well. It's like he's hot and cold. Either he does well or not. He started off strong, and now he seems to be lagging; we've just seen a kind of sloppy corner from him--OOHH! That was a close call. Rogers and Stark trying to battle it out--Stark  _is_ skipping pit road this time. Looks like maybe they nicked corners there. Stark recovering nicely. Rogers is backing off. Interesting behaviour these two. It's like a game. Or--" Laughs "--almost like flirting, on the track.  No matter what they say about these two off-track, it's certainly hot up in here!"

"Yes, it is. There goes Rogers, trying to pass Stark again. Man, if these two were any closer, they'd be driving the same car. They're certainly playing fast and loose... Well, we're heading into Turn 4 now. There are only a few laps left, and we have 19, Stark, in the lead, followed by 47 (Rogers), 29 (Coulson), 83 (Romanoff), and 72 (Cage) as our top five. Looks like Stark's pulling ahead here; he's really tearing it up. And we're going into Turn 3--Oh my God! What the he--what just happened there!?"

"Stark is... Stark is crashed. Stark is  _in_ the barrier. Rogers was no where  _near_ him! Wait... What the... Rogers is slowing down. Rogers is... Rogers is  _stopping_?! He is  _giving up his lead_. What is going on?"

"Stark is not getting out of his car."

"Stark's--his car is on fire. Yes we're seeing flames. Emergency is on its way."

"Rogers has stopped. He's out of his car--wow, he is  _sprinting_ towards the 19. This is the most unbelievable..."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing. Rogers has just  _pulled_ Stark from the flaming 19. He's got him on his feet. Steadying him. Oh God."

"Oh my--is that...?"

"Rogers is  _kissing_ Stark!"

"They're kissing! They are  _kissing_ , ladies and gentlemen. This is not something you see every day. Looks like all of that flirtatious driving has paid off! Okay, so it appears Stark is alright? Emergency is arriving at the scene..."

~ ~ ~ ~

"Tony! Tony, oh my God, are you okay?" Steve cried frantically, hauling Tony out. "Can you stand?" He pulled off Tony's helmet, tossing it aside carelessly.

"Jesus..." Tony muttered. "I'm okay. Fuck. God dammit! I was in the lead!"

"Seriously?" Steve gaped at him. He gave Tony a little shake because he couldn't help it. "You  _idiot_!" And then kissed him hard as the other cars zoomed passed them behind Steve.

Tony swayed slightly, looping one arm around Steve's neck, the other around his waist. He leaned into the kiss, sagging towards Steve as emergency pulled up. "Guess our secret is blown..."

Steve shook his head. "Don't care. You're lucky you survived that..."

Tony grinned at him, a bit dazed. "Looks like my new safety measures worked at least..."

Steve shook his head again with a sigh. His smile, however, was fond. "Idiot.

"Alright guys. Sorry to break it up, but we've got to break it up," one of the EMTs said. "Mr. Stark, if you'd come this way. Mr. Rogers, you alright?"

"I'm just fine. See to Tony. He's the one who crashed."

"Tires gave out, I think," Tony added.

"Get yourself checked out," Steve said firmly. 

Tony leaned back in. "You gave up first for me."

Blushing, he nodded. "Yes. Now go make sure you don't have a concussion...

Tony smiled and rocked onto his toes to kiss him again. "Love you, Steve."

"Love you too."


	15. "If You Ever..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promt: Pepper and Natasha ganging up on Steve and giving him the "If you hurt Tony they will never find your body" speech.

One of the more terrifying things in Steve's life was not aliens. Was not the Wrecking Crew. Was not Doctor Doom and his unending Doom Bots.

One of the more terrifying things in Steve's life was being cornered by two deadly red-heads.

"Y-yes...? Can I help you? With...Something?" he leaned back into the corner in the kitchen, mustard and butter knife in hand. He swallowed, looking from Pepper to Natasha and from Natasha to Pepper.

Chin raised to account for her shorter height, Natasha fixed him with a steely dead-eyed look that never blinked. Pepper arched an eyebrow and a small wry grin at him. "It's about Tony."

"Yeeeeeees?" he said slowly. "What about Tony?"

"It's about if you ever hurt Tony," Pepper clarified in the same conversational tone.

"I...won't?"

"Damn straight." Natasha leaned in with a feral grin. "Because Rogers? The world is my graveyard. They wouldn't ever find a body."

"There won't even be a remnant," Pepper elaborated, batting her eyelashes. "It won't even be in the news."

"I think he gets the point," Natasha said. She grabbed the knife from him.

Steve flinched.

Pepper patted his cheek and then clicked away with Tasha on towering heels.

Steve sagged against the counter, remembering to breathe again.

Tony came in, eyes following the red-heads. He looked at Steve with a small frown. "What was that about."

"Oh nothing," Steve said faintly. "If I disappear, Tony? It wasn't by choice." Then he whirled to finish making the sandwiches, hearing Tony's footsteps coming closer.

"Don't worry about them. Pepper's really harmless."

Steve snorted a bit hysterically.

Wrapping his arms around Steve's chest, Tony pressed himself along Steve's back. "No worries. I'll keep you safe from the angry ladies."

He could feel Tony's grin and shook his head. "I'll hold you to that."

Leaning up, Tony pressed a kiss to Steve's jaw over his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll fend them all off and you'll be all mine."

Steve turned his head and pressed his lips to Tony's. "You'll always be safe from me," he promised quietly. And kissed him, turning so he was bracketed by Tony's arms against the counter, knowing he'd do his damndest to make sure that it was true.


	16. Dirty Little Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Superhusbands (*giggle*) - Steve surprising Tony, maybe with something that Tony doesn't expect from the clean-cut American boy or whatever tickles your Muse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sometimes have a strong head-canon, that once Steve gets a taste of the dirty, he'll dive in head first. Slutty-virgin!Steve ftw!

“Steve,” Tony asked seriously, already half naked while Steve was fully dressed. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”

“What?! No! That’s not it!” Steve protested, face flushed and eyes down cast.

“Then what the hello is the matter?” Tony said, voice soft.

Lifting his eyes, Steve took a deep breath. “I… want to try something different.”

Tony tilted his head, disentangling his arms from his shirt to drop it on the floor. “Okay.”

“You shouldn’t leave your clothes on the floor,” Steve chastised absently. 

“What do you want to try?”

Steve licked his lips nervously before meeting Tony’s blues with his own. “I want you to tie me down and blindfold me.”

Tony blinked at him a few times to let that process. “I’m sorry—”

“And spank me.”

He gaped. 

Steve’s face turned tomato red. “Y-you don’t have to!” He backpedaled quickly. “I just thou—” He let out a small yelp as Tony jerked him off-balance and he toppled to the bed.

“Want it a little rough?” Tony crooned.

“I… maybe?” Steve answered breathlessly, eyes wide.

“Scoot up.” Tony followed him, making quick work of Steve’s button-up. He pushed it off Steve’s chest and ties the ends behind Steve’s back, binding his arms. “Okay?”

Steve nodded wildly, breathing coming fast. “Yes. Yes, good.”

Tony kissed him hard. “Good. God, you’re gorgeous… Gonna go get a blindfold. Steve, you tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Not a wilting flower, Tony,” he said, squirming a bit.

Tony could see the outline of him through his slacks. “Oh fuck.” Scrambling off the bed, he found one of his thermals and crawled back over to Steve. “Gonna put this on you,” he said hoarsely.

Steve moaned softly as the blindfold came on. “It smells like you,” he breathed. 

Kissing Steve a mouth again, Tony nipped down Steve’s neck, sucking a mark just above the notch at the base of his throat.

“Tony…. Tony…” Steve pressed his hips up to try and get contact. 

“Maybe next time I should gag you,” Tony rumbled.

Steve moaned. 

Taking a moment to suck and nibble Steve’s nipples, Tony finally swatted him on the flank. “Roll over. Hands and knees.” Palming himself, he finished shucking his jeans. Licked his lips as Steve turned over, face on the pillow to support himself.

“Tony,” Steve breathed. “Please don’t tease with this…”

“I thought the whole point _was_ to tease,” he purred, reaching around to undo and pull Steve’s slacks halfway down his thighs. “I cannot believe you. This is dirty, honey.” Not so bad, really, but dirtier than he expected from America’s hero. Tony licked his palm and then hauled back, giving Steve’s ass a good smack. 

Steve moaned, rocking forward. 

“Good?”

“Again!”

Tony sucked in air through his teeth. “Jesus…” Then reached up to take a hold of Steve’s hip and smacked him again. 

Moan smothered by the pillow, Steve keened softly, rocking with each smack. 

“Fuck, Steve. Wish I had a mirror to show you how pink your ass is…” Each noise that fell from Steve’s lips went straight to Tony’s cock. He reached around Steve’s front to give his lover’s a few pulls. 

“O-oh f-f-fuck…” Steve groaned, arching his back higher as Tony gave him another sharp smack. “Okay! Okay, enough! Get in me!” 

Tony didn’t need a second invitation. Reaching over Steve, he grabbed the lube, slicked his fingers, and gave Steve a cursor prep, slicked himself , and then slid home with a low groan that Steve echoed. “Fuck, Steve… your ass feels so warm.”

“Please,” Steve muttered, pushing back on Tony. 

It didn’t take long. Steve came with a strained whimper, Tony following two thrusts later. Slumping over his back, Tony pulled out and rolled over, untying Steve and easing him onto his side. “Okay?” Tony asked quietly.

Steve gave him a sates smile, cracking his eyes. “Mm…good. Thank you.”

Tony stretched luxuriously. “Steve, you ever want to so anything new and exciting,you tell me and i promise we’ll give it a try.”

Steve, face still flushed, nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Will do.” He stretched forward to brush his lips over Tony’s. “G’night.,.”

Kissing him back, Tony smiled and tucked the sheets around them, before snugging up against his lover to fall asleep.


	17. As Magic Does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Merlin/Arthur - I'm convinced healthy young males in love would find some prurient uses for Merlin's magic once it's been revealed. Tell me about this, hm? *bats eyelashes*

“So… have you ever tried…” Arthur began, fingers stroking over Merlin’s chest.

“I don’t know if I like where that question is going,” Merlin said with a grin, twisting his head to look back at Arthur. Who made for a rather comfortable pillow. Merlin liked lying on him, Arthur’s arms around him. It was nice.

“Shut up, Merlin. But…You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean,” Merlin drawled.

Arthur huffed. “Okay. With your magic. Have you ever tried…” he waved a hand towards his hips. “ _Enlarging_?”

Merlin snickered. “Tried that. Failed. Awkwardly. My usual size is good.”

“You mean you didn’t get stuck that way?” Arthur teased.

Elbowing him gently, Merlin shook his head.

“Well, I mean, what else is the point of your magic if you can’t… _do_ things with it?”

“Oi! Just because _you_ think dirty all the time—”

“Oh don’t even pull that over on me, Merlin. You’ve a filthy mind, what have you come up with with your magic to do…filthy things?”

Merlin grinned and shook his head. “I can see sex has addled your mind, Your Majesty…”

“Stop it,” Arthur shoved at him, pushing him off of him. “But really. What have you tried?”

“You really want to know?” Merlin arched a brow at him.

“Yes,” Arthur said decisively. “I want to kno—ah!” he jumped as the bedding slithered down his legs and tightened around his ankles, his night shirt climbing off his body and binding his hands. “M-merlin?”

“You wanted to know,” Merlin said, grinning mischievously. Leaning back on his hands, his eyes glowed gold.

Arthur yelped as his prick warmed. “What the hell is that?”

Merlin shrugged. “It was winter. I was tired of shrunken bollocks…”

Huffing again, Arthur pulled at his clothes. But was held still. “Alright,” he said, voice tight. “What else. Come on.”

Merlin sighed and his eyes glowed again.

Arthur yelped. “M-merlin!” He squirmed as what felt like hands roved along his legs, tickling the back of his knees, stuttering down his chest, tripping along the line of his spine. “Gods… What did you…”

Merlin grinned. “Played tricks on my mate Will. And my mum. Never used it quite like this before.”

Arthur swallowed as both sets of ‘hands’ converged on his prick. “Blo-bloody hell!”

“More?”

Arthur nodded, tugging at his restraints.

Another flash of gold and Arthur felt himself slick, below. “O-oh…”

“That’s one I’m proud of,” Merlin said with a cheeky grin. “Came up with it myself.”

“You’re so innovative, Merlin,” Arthur drawled, squirming. “Are you going to get on with it or what?”

“Pushy,” Merlin muttered. But when he licked his fingers, they came away slick.

“Merlin…!” Arthur tried making it an order, but it turned into a breathy gasp as the touching sensations were back—his arse, his nipples. His cock.

“This is just the beginning,” Merlin teased. The sheets tugged Arthur’s legs open, and Merlin knelt between them. “I love having you spread out for me…” he breathed, pressing kisses to Arthur’s hips.

“Yes, that’s lovely, but I would…” Arthur pushed his hips up eagerly. “You’ve got me all excited, Merlin, so take care of it.”

Huffing, Merlin his head. “Even in bed you think you can order me around…” Nosing at the base of Arthur’s prick, Merlin slid his fingers along his cleft.

“Merlin!”

He laughed, twisting his fingers into Arthur slowly, enjoying watching the way the man stretched and sighed and strained and sought it.

“Yes… Come on, Merlin. Come on…!” Arthur urged, already rather desperate.

“You…like it when I use magic on you.” The realisation struck him suddenly.

“Only when I tell you to,” Arthur countered, tugging at his wrists again. “Come on, Merlin! How many times do I have to tell you!”

Merlin twisted his fingers making Arthur arch off the bed. “That’s what I thought.”

“Yes. Okay. You’ve made your point. Come on then, Merlin.”

Another murmured spell and he was slicked up. Another flash of gold and Arthur’s arse was levitated into the air.

“Oi!”

Merlin nudged his legs wider and rose onto his knees, lining himself up. “Shut up, Arthur.” He nudged in slowly, Arthur sighing softly as he wriggled on the bed, body urging Merlin faster, for more. Held still, Merlin was able to run his hands over Arthur’s chest and legs without having to worry, pumping in and out of him slow and deep.

“Merlin…” Arthur groaned. “Gods have mercy, _come_! _On_!”

Gritting his teeth, Merlin sped up, bending over him to seal their lips together. “Arthur…” He braced his hands next to Arthur’s shoulders, and sent the invisible hands to wrap around Arthur’s prick. “Finish, Arthur,” he murmured, kissing him again.

Moaning into his mouth, Arthur shuddered apart, straining at his shirt until it creaked.

When Arthur was limp, Merlin thrust into him until he too finished, laying slack atop him.

“Alright…” Arthur said finally. “I _know_ there’s got to be more in your repertoire. Tomorrow, Merlin.”

Chuckling, Merlin sent Arthur’s bindings slithering off, and pulled out of him. Murmuring another few words, they were clean again. Arthur tugged Merlin down against his side. “So. Good?”

“Yes. Good. Now. Sleep. You’ve got to mend my shirts before I can wear them tomorrow…”

Merlin snorted. “Likely not. But they’ll be ready in the morning all the same, _sire_.”


	18. Ghost Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of [Superfizz's](superfizz.tumblr.com) gorgeous picture of Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve wandered groggily down to the kitchen for breakfast. “I had the weirdest dream last night…” The team paused expectantly. “There was piano music infiltrating the mansion… No one plays, do they?”

“I’ve dabbled,” Natasha said with a shrug. “But it wasn’t me.”

Everyone else murmured negatives and went back to their respective source of sustenance.

“It was Chopin,” Steve murmured, sitting down with a cup of joe and a bowl of oatmeal.

It happened again about three weeks later. Only this time, Steve pinched himself and knew he was awake. Reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed, he listened. Someone was definitely playing. And they weregoodtoo. So he did roll out of bed and crept down the hall, down the staircase, peering into the big sitting room where the grand piano sat. And was confronted by dark shadows and a blue glow.

Tony.

Of course. Steve slumped down against the wall, leaning against it to think. Of course it was Tony. It was his house. He’d probably taken lessons as a child. And since music was like math in some ways, it was no surprise that it was Tony. When the notes eventually faded, Steve scrambled out of sight, waiting for the man to go back to his room before Steve found his way back to his.

The next morning, he mentioned he’d dreamed about piano music again, watching Tony for a reaction. The man only laughed and went back to his coffee. But he did look thoughtful when Steve said he’d liked it.

Four times, over the next month, Tony played the piano in the small hours of the morning, curled towards the instrument like a lover, glass perched on the side of it, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. The image burned into his mind so vibrantly that Steve sketched it out, leaving it on his dresser.

A week later, Steve ‘fell asleep’ on the sofa in the sitting room, waiting in the dark for Tony to come play. When Tony wandered in, Steve kept himself low on the sofa, blanket tucked up to his shoulders. And hummed along with the song that Tony played. His mother used to hum this one to him, when he was a kid.

Tony stopped. “Who’s there?”

“Keep playing,” Steve murmured. “You’re really good.” May as well give up the ghost.

“Steve!?”

He yawned. “Mm. Keep going. I like it.” He could feel Tony’s hesitation from where he lay. “I’ve known for a month. Don’t worry. I won’t spill your secrets. Even if everyone probably already knows. You do live with spies…”

Tony chuckled, but the notes eventually resumed, soft and sweet, sending Steve off to sleep where he dreamed of piano music and dancing.


	19. Hey Remember That Time We Got Fake-Married?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Superhusbands Next-door neighbors AU. OR Pretending to be married. Either way, ♥♥♥

Tony wanted the corner apartment on the sixth. Great.

Problem: So did Rogers next door.

Problem: Everyone knew Fury was going to sell it to a couple. He always did. The Martins were moving out, getting too old to hike the four storeys. But it had the best view, access to the roof, and an extra room.

He bit his lip, regarding the floor plan. He needed a plan. He needed...a partner. Pepper already had a swanky place that she'd gotten for a steal from her landlady. She wouldn't go in with him. No one wanted to live where Tony was living. Rhodey had shared a hotel room with him for three days and swore to never again. He grit his teeth. He needed booze. Heading out, he locked his door and bumped into Rogers on the stairs. Narrowed his eyes.

"What?" Steve said defensively.

"You're not getting my apartment."

"It's not yours," Steve retorted.

"Not yet."

"Gonna have a shot-gun wedding to get it?"

"I need that space!"

"I want it too."

"Last I checked, Rogers, your girl dumped you," Tony crowed. And regretted it as Steve's face darkened.

"Ass."

"I do have a good one, thank you."

Rogers grit his teeth and skirted him.

"So do you, gorgeous!" He grinned as the back of Steve's neck turned red. Whistling, he headed out.

Later, when Tony was drunk, he had the most fantastic idea ever. And he meant ever. Bending some wire into a circle, he welded it shut and wobbled down the hall to Rogers' door. "Steeeeeeeve!" He banged on it enthusiastically.

"What!" Steve hissed as he opened the door. "It's one in the morning."

"1:18, yes. I've decided. We should share the 'partment," he said magnanimously.

"Fury only sells to couples," Steve replied flatly.

"Which is why!" Tony flourished the ring. "We're getting 'married.'"

Steve shut the door in his face.

Later, when he was regretful and sober, Tony realised he'd gone about it the wrong way. Taking the man honest-to-goodness cookies, Tony made himself apologise and then explained his plan. He and Steve 'marry' and then they can share the corner apartment. They'd draw the lines and never have to see one another, essentially. Tony wanted the roof, Steve could have the extra room if he wanted, so long as he took the small bedroom. To his shock, Steve agreed. And, with Tony's not inconsiderable inheritance, he offered the down payment when Fury sold, squinting at them as they signed the deal 'Steve Rogers-Stark' and 'Tony Rogers-Stark.'

And for a month, he doesn't even realise that he's living with another person. There's food in the fridge, and dishes in the dishwasher, but he rarely sees the man. Another month later, and Steve was in his doorway, expression confused. "Oh."

Tony raised his brows at him.

"You have my...."

"Your...?"

"My mug," Rogers flushed faintly, meeting his eyes.

"Your mug," he echoed blankly. "Oh! I have your _mug_!" Tony looked down at the mug in his hand. "Well shit. Sorry."

"I mean, you can finish using it," Steve offered quickly. "Just make sure it gets back in the dishwasher."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." Tony watched him leave before looking down at the ridiculous American flag mug. Like one of those tacky ones that you'd get at a New York gift shop or something. Of course it was Steve's. He didn't know why he picked it up. But then... Steve's laundry snuck into his and vice-versa (Rogers coming to him, offering Tony's silk boxers with a bright face), they joined one another for meals (and by that, Tony meant Steve cooked and Tony leeched food from him), they started watching TV together (so their interests coincided. Whatever), and they both gradually exploded out of their rooms into the common areas.

"Shit! Gotta go meet Rhodey! Steve! Where are my keys!"

"Hanging on the key hooks that I hung there, specifically, so you wouldn't lose your keys," he called, not bothering to even come out of his studio and look.

Sure enough, there they were. He was late to meet Rhodey, but that was nothing new.

"So why haven't I seen your latest place?"

"What? I've got a room-mate," Tony said absently, digging into the Thai food on his plate.

"Yeah. So. Introduce me."

He pointedly didn't meet his best friend's eyes.

"Tony."

"What! I fake married the guy so we could get the good apartment!"

"Tony!"

"Whaaaaaat," he groaned, dropping his head back.

"Dude. Tony. That's not okay, man."

"Oh, whatever. It's not like his love-life is a thing that exists!" Tony threw his hands up. "He's an artist. He hides in his room, makes us dinner, and then we shit and watch TV at night. He's ridiculous. Poor kid never goes out--"

"He doesn't complain about your living style?" James' eyes widened.

Rolling his eyes, Tony scoffed. "He makes me eat, reminds me to sleep, and threatens to put me to bed. He's worse than you. He told me where my keys were!"

"You like this guy?"

"Sure I like him! He hasn't killed me in my sleep yet or yelled at me to pick up my tools!"

"Tony, I love you, man, but I can not live with you," Rhodey said with a laugh. "I'm downright shocked that this dude can do it. Hold on to this one."

Tony laughed. "We're not getting married, Rhodey."

"That's right. You already are."

"Shut up. You know what I mean."

"I mean that this dude tolerates all your weird-ass shit habits and doesn't complain? You sleeping with anybody right now?"

Tony frowned. "No."

"You are totally married to this guy!" His friend whooped with laughter.

"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! You are a liar and a slanderer!" Tony accused over his food.

"Married!"

Tony would laugh. Except that it was totally true.

"Tony? Tony." Rhodey's mirth melted away into concern. "Yo, you okay?"

"I'm married to him," he croaked. "Except I don't get the sex and we're not actually married to him. I have to go." Bolting, Tony ran back to the apartment. "Steve! Steve!"

"What!" Steve gasped, stumbling out of his room, eyes wide. He's sleep-rumpled, boxers curled higher on one leg, shirt twisted around his torso. "What's wrong!?"

"We're married."

Steve tsked and rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Tony! I thought you were hurt or something! Or something was wrong!"

"We're married."

"You said that."

"No. We're actually married. Just...not having sex."

"Uh, no. No, we're not having sex. I would have noticed that," Steve retorted, his cheeks pinking. He straightened and shifted his clothing to be more presentable.

"Right. Well I think we should be," Tony's mouth said, by-passing Tony's brain. He dug his hole deeper. "I mean, if we're gonna be married and shit, we should at least get the benefits of a monogamous relationship right?" Oh God. Train-wreck. Stop. Stop. No more. "You know, consummate the marriage?" Worse. Not better. Stop! "Make it real?" What was he doing?!

Steve stared, eyes wide. Then panned around their apartment, an indistinguishable mess of both of their things. Then back at Tony. "Okay."

"Thank fuck," he breathed out on the air he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. "Because we're so married. And I didn't realise it."

Steve's lips twitched up hesitantly. "We are."

"We should have a ceremony." He was still frozen as Steve inched closer.

"Really?" And then dipped his head to kiss Tony's lips gently.

"Wow. Okay. You just did that."

"Yeah. That okay?" Steve took a step back.

"Yes. Yes, definitely okay. Yes, okay. Okay, good. Good. I..." He was cut off by Steve's lips against his again. Tony was definitely okay with this.


	20. The Content of Your Parentheses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Steve/Tony(/Bucky?)  
> “When you’re holding me, we make a pair of parentheses with plenty space to encase whatever weird way my mind goes - I know I’ll be safe in these arms.”

He finally came back to himself. Minus an arm. But maybe that was a small price to pay for the return of his own sense of self. Except there were more prices to pay. Nothing was like what he was used to. Steve... Jesus, Steve... Steve was with Stark's _son_ of all people. Romantically. Openly. In private. It wasn't _common_ common knowledge yet, apparently. But their whole team knows. And the satellite group of people who are 'important.'  


Steve immediately sacrifices tons of time to be with him. Taking him away from Stark Jr. Bucky's sure he's pissed. Hell, he would be. And Steve... Jesus, Steve hasn't changed. He's still the same golden boy. And when Bucky teases him about Stark, out of jealousy, Steve still flushes and stammers. Nothing's changed, he thinks bitterly.   


Save for the fact that he's out an arm, Steve is gay, and Bucky missed his window.   


Stark Jr., it turns out, _hates_ the name 'Stark Jr.' and calls him 'James' and 'Robocop' and 'Terminator' and a million other things that he doesn't understand or like (or doesn't like _because_ he doesn't understand) out of retaliation. So Bucky stops. And once they both stop the snippy teasing, Bucky learns that he's not so bad a guy. Stupid smart, just like his dad. Bucky learns not to talk about Stark's dad around him either.   


And, shockingly, they become sort of friends. And Bucky gets used to seeing Steve come down to Stark's--Tony's workshop and greet him with a sweet kiss or subtle caress, like he's still too nervous to expression affection for a guy he's clearly over the moon for around him. Bucky sees it all and wishes he could be more natural about it. Tony's behaviour never differs. He's purposely as affectionate as he always is. Bucky can appreciate that. It endears the guy to him some.   


When they both discover that they both like teasing Steve just to get him to blush, however... The world turns over again. They team up. Whatever outrageous things they can dream up--and for a genius and a military man who's seen it all, that's a lot--and spring it on Steve when he's least suspecting. And after two months, he's always suspecting, but Bucky and Tony still manage to surprise him.   


He admits that he's crazy about Steve one night, drunk with Tony in his workshop. Tony laughs. Bucky repeats himself. Tony turns a surprisingly serious gaze on him and tells him that everybody who really knows Steve Rogers is crazy about him. "No," Bucky tells him, "I mean that I am in love with him."  


"I know exactly what you meant," Tony says.   


There's a moment of silence before Tony shrugs nonchalantly and quips, "There's always threesomes."  


Looking at him sharply, Bucky's eyes widen and he feels his face maybe heat a little. A weird feeling. They go to bed shortly thereafter.   


The idea, however, plagues Bucky's thoughts for the next three weeks, him prevaricating between 'yes, awesome idea,' and 'no, God, why would I?' He never says towards one direction very strongly.  


Until, as a new ploy to make Steve flush, at a Christmas party, Tony grabs on to Bucky and kisses him for all he's worth.   


And Stark is worth a lot.   


When Tony lets go of him, Bucky wobbles slightly as he stands upright again. The world turns over again. Steve is staring at them with a wide-eyed look that Bucky can't decipher. Stark just looks incredibly smug. The rest of the Avengers are ridiculously entertained or unbothered.   


The next day, the Avengers are called out to deal with the villain-of-the-month. Which is apparently harder than they expected, or something tricky happens, because the communicator that Tony gave Bucky goes off, and all he can hear over the comm is yelling and confusion and chaos. So he high-tails his ass over to help. However he can.  


And gets himself shot in the shoulder for his troubles. He must have passed out, because he wakes to Steve and Tony arguing softly in his hospital room. SHIELD issue. "Can y'ser'sly not..." he slurs, drugged.   


"Bucky!" Steve says, lunging towards his bed to grab his hand.  


"Bucky's arm!" Tony says, flailing towards him, clearly exaggerating Steve's movements.  


All the same, it makes him chuckle. And once he starts, he keeps going, laughing. Laughing and laughing at how ridiculous it all was. Though maybe part of that is the drugs.   


He's released and Steve and Tony bring him home, Steve insistent on keeping a close eye on him. Bucky half-sees Stark's fond smile and then he's being dumped carefully on Tony's bed. He drifts off.   


When he wakes, it's to Steve's face very close to his. Bucky blinks in surprise, wondering what alternate universe this is, until he shifts back into another warm body. Eyes widening in surprise, it's Sta--Tony. Dozing. Or so he thought.   


Tony shifts, cracking an eye. He gives Bucky a warm smile and then pulls a finger up to his lips to indicate 'quiet.' Then the man's sharp blue eyes disappear back beneath his lids and his hand stretches out to rest at Bucky's hip. "Get some sleep," the man murmurs. "Else you'll wake Steve."  


Bucky stares at him, confused for a long moment before a smile finds its way across his lips. He nestles into the bedding between Steve and Tony, and thinks that this may not be such a bad place to be. 


	21. It Wasn't the Way They Told You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> daftpunk-delorean asked you:  
> How about.... superhusbands: person A has to convince person B that person A hates him, because convincing him to leave and never come back will be the only way to save his life, even if it destroys them both.
> 
> ((So my go-to would be for Tony to be all self-sacrificial, but I’m gonna challenge myself and write it as Steve pushing Tony away.))

Tony’s wide eyes, alight with fear and hurt and confusion and a million other things that caused Steve pain, blink, slow, like he’s moving at quarter-speed. “I…what?”

"God, you’re thick," Steve said, forcing his voice to be harsh, instead of teasing. "For such a genius, I don’t understand how you don’t get it. We’re done. I can’t do this anymore."

"But…things were good!" Tony protested, chin tucked down, wounded.

"Things were good because you ignored all the problems," he forced himself to scoff, rolling his eyes. "I can’t do this anymore. I don’t like the person I am with you, Tony."

Steve watched as Tony pulled himself up straight, like he were facing a firing squad, because there was no way that he wouldn’t face them head on, head straight, chin up. Steve watched as Tony pulled a grin across his lips with Herculean effort, shoving his hands into his pockets like it was all no big deal. Steve watched as Tony’s gaze shuttered and he gave a bitter laugh like it was a punchline swallowed down wrong. “Guess it was bound to happen eventually. Alright. Alright, Cap. Well. You do what you gotta do.”

Steve watched as his own heart crumbled in his chest, knowing he was witnessing the Great Wall being built around Tony’s heart in seconds. With a sharp nod, he turned on his heel and left the room, knowing that, even if the fight tomorrow went badly, Tony would be excluded from any of the Skull’s manipulations. And that’s all he wanted.


	22. Staring Down the Barrel of a Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by wibbly-wobbly-timey-whimey
> 
> Superhusbands - Wolf Gang- Black River

There were so many things Tony could say about Steve. How they fought, how the man made him strive to be better, how Steve pushed him. How Tony needed him. How Steve didn’t even realise how much he needed him. He’d never had any delusions of living to a ripe old age. The thought made him curl a lip, bitter. And if Tony could toast to that, he would. But right now he was years sober and right now his hands were too busy with wires to hold a glass. 

"The compound is clear," Steve called from the doorway to the giant warehouse laboratory. "How are we coming with the bomb?"

Tony grit his teeth. The thing made no sense. That was the problem. It made no sense. Whoever had put it together hadn’t designed it to make sense, even thought here  _had_  to be some sort of sense. There  _had_  to be. And if he could just figure it out—Tony was wasting enough time with this. “Almost done,” he lied, calling to Steve over his shoulder. “Get out of here, Cap. Make sure everyone is a safe distance away.”

"It’ll be fine if you’re almost done with dismantling the thing," Steve countered.

Fucking damn it all to Hell. If he could not be stubborn for  _one_  minute. “Just in case!” Tony called, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurt. “Get out.”

"Tony…" There was a warning in Steve’s voice. 

He snarled, turning to glare at him. “It’s going to blow. Get out.”

Steve blinked, eyes wide, almost like he was lost and didn’t know what to do with that information. “But you…”

"Now is no time to go stupid on me, Cap," Tony snapped, snagging the thing and gathering it up into his arms. The repulsors powered up, ready to shoot himself into the sky.

"Tony!"

But he was already through the roof, glass falling back to the ground like dying shooting stars.

"Stark!" Steve bellowed over the comms. "Tony! Come back to me!"

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and shot up as high as he could so the blast wouldn’t injure innocents. Eyes burning, Tony breathed, “Would if I could, Cap.” Then the bomb blew and everything whited out, ending.


	23. Forever I'll Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by neinka
> 
> Spuffy - [Hurts- Somebody to Die For](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pt1kc_FniKM)

 

His downfall had always been women who didn't care for him the same way that he did. The way that he devoted his heart, his very breath to them. When Spike came back--he wouldn't call it living. His first thoughts had been to see Buffy. To see the sweetness of her face. Then of course to see her snarl as he pressed her back against a wall. But he stayed with Angel and his lot, a ghost, until he wasn't. And then he really was real again. And Spike went to see her. Travelled. Found her. It didn't matter. He had all the time in the world. Except she didn't. Buffy was only human. Though Spike would go through twice the hell he had to get his soul to gain his humanity. So he could spend the rest of those days with her. If she wanted him. He was sure if she wanted him, and there was a way, Spike would find it.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Spike didn't even notice Buffy dropping down into a squat next to him. "Spying on me?"

"Bloody he..." Spike huffed and looked at her. Then back at the castle window where her bedroom was. "Why Scotland?" he asked, for something to say. "Bloody cold."

Buffy shrugged, bundled up in a parka. Stretched the silence, making Spike squirm mentally. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, she did. "I meant it, you know. I didn't just say it."

His eyes darted to her, wide. "I..."

Her lips spread into a smile as she looked at him. "Come inside, Spike.. And stop spying on me. It's creepifying." She stood and headed in, knowing he'd follow. Spike would follow her to the ends of the earth and back. Again.


	24. My Old Age Gives You Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by gimpy-mc-limps-a-lot
> 
> Superhusbands - Josh Ritter- The Curse

((So. A. This song is horribly sad. B. It's also more than a bit creepy for the implications C. I kind of really like it))

 

Steve had picked up one of his pet issues. So they booked the circuits and went around, doing the lecture tour again. Tony was proud of him. He was just...tired. He'd gotten old, surprisingly. His hair was more silver than salt-and-pepper. But he got bored if Steve went off on his own, still looking young. Steve only looked like he was forty-five ish. Tony had booked the hotels and so he lounged in the bed while Steve went off to speak at Columbia. His eyes  felt heavy, so Tony dozed a while, not feeling guilty. 

Long-retired from the team, he couldn't help but be struck by the thought that Steve didn't need him. Tony was only so much dead weight Steve carried around these days. And it was fine. At least. Tony was fine with it. He'd done his part. Steve said he still loved him. Still slept next to him in bed. They had sex when Tony could manage. And Steve didn't see anyone else. At least, not where Tony could see. And his gaze, while weaker these days could still see pretty damn far. Not that he ever really looked into any evidence of Steve seeing anyone else. Because Tony didn't want to know. He didn't want to know if Steve was getting his rocks off with someone else to satisfy the urge. That would be the ultimate knife in the gut. 

So he didn't look too far. Didn't track Steve. Didn't spy...

"Tony...?"

His eyes fluttered open at the sound of his name, still feeling heavy. He thought he slurred his husband's name, giving him a smile. 

But Steve's face was worried, brow creased in concern. "Tony? Tony, are you okay? Tony, stay with me, sweetheart, okay?"

"What're you talkin' 'bout..." Tony managed, his chest feeling tight as he tried to inhale. The world was narrowed in on Steve, Tony trying to suck air in. He felt light-headed. Dizzy. Even though he was lying down. "Steve... still look so...gorgeous..."

Face crumbling, Steve leaned over him, fingers curling around his shoulder. "Tony  _please_ ," he begged, voice cracking. "Stay with me...? Please? Please don't leave me yet!"

His gaze lost its focus, Tony's hand fumbling out to grab on to Steve's. "Love..." And then the light narrowed in on Steve's face, Tony giving him a last smile before everything faded.


	25. Flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Either Stony or Merthur with Bastille's "All of your flaws and all of my flaws, they lie there hand in hand. Ones we’ve inherited, ones that we learned, they pass from man to man."

 

It was the same old argument time after time after time. Tony wasn't his father--no that's never what I meant to imply--well it sure as hell sounded like it!--can you just calm down for one.fucking.minute--oh  _there's_  the anger; what are you going to do about it  _this_ time--Tony. Shut. Up--sounding more and more like me these days, Cap--

 

...and it would reach a breaking point. One of them would snap. Leave a welt like a rubberband. And they would sulk separately until one would come to apologise. Ease the hurts. They'd fuck and make love and apologise and promise to never say these things again. 

Until the next time they fell past their lips in fits of anger. 

Until...

"Tony... We can't keep doing this..." Steve said softly, seated on the bed as Tony dressed. He stared at the floor, elbows resting on his knees, hands tightly clasped.

"What?" Tony paused in pulling his shirt over his head. 

"I can't... I hate hurting you. But you wind me up. And I can't help it. I have to fight back. You get me going like no one else does, Tony," Steve went on, still staring at the floor.

"What, no! No! Steve!" Tony hurried over, kneeling in front of him, shirt tangled around his head and an arm, forgotten. "Steve... Please. Come on. We'll be okay... We're always okay. We'll be fine! I'm--I'm sorry. I don't mean to hurt you either--Steve... I--" He choked on the words that he thought would make it better, looking up into  Steve's face.

Steve shook his head. "It's not... That's not it, Tony. But we can't keep arguing like this. We need... We need a better method. Or...or  _something_. Even if we do make up."

Tony sagged in relief. "So you're not ending things...?"

Steve's eyes widened, snapping up to meet Tony's. "What?!" he yelped. "No! Jesus, no! I wouldn't... No. That's... No."

Worry abated, Tony couldn't help but laugh at Steve's vehemence. The words came easy this time. "I love you, you know..."

Steve stared at him, eyes wide with hope this time, lips slowly turning up in a grin. "Yeah...?"

"Incurable," Tony said with a faux-solemn expression.

Eyes crinkling with warmth, Steve leaned in close. "I love you not despite your flaws, Tony Stark. But including them." Then hooked a hand around the back of his head and reeled him in for a kiss. 


	26. How Do You Solve a Problem Like Anthony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene that wouldn't leave my head...

"And in other news, Shannon, guess who finally turned up!"

"Who, Doug?"

"Breaking news, everyone, Tony Stark, MIA since Steve Rogers, captain America’s, death, has turned up."

"Oh this has got to be a good story. Stark, missing in action for the past ten days, has turned up? Just to fill in our viewers, Stark had taken himself off the grid since Captain Rogers’ death. All queries to his most trusted friends, including one Miss Pepper Potts, who seemed very harried, exiting Stark Industries, were met with frustrated replies summing up the facts, being this. They didn’t know. Stark disappeared. An impressive feat for someone so well known and recognised. No one could tell where he’d gone or if perhaps he had maybe just…lost it."

"Exactly, Shannon. So now Stark has been found, by one Julia Macon. A long time fan of Cap, she was headed to his grave site to lay her flowers when there was less of a crowd. Say some private words…"

"Isn’t that sweet, Doug? The amount of support he had… And always so humble. He’s truly a treasure we’ll miss…"

"Exactly, Shannon. So at first, Miss Macon thought someone had trespasses the boundary lines, keeping people from getting too close. Upon approach, Miss Macon says she recognised the figure. He was slumped against the headstone."

"No!"

"Yes, Tony Stark was unconscious, against Captain America’s headstone. There are no reports on his state of sobriety—"

"Well colour me surprised, Doug. I would imagine if there were one thing that would knock Stark off the wagon, it would be the guilt of causing Steve Rogers’ death."

"Hold on. Just hold on a moment. There are no confirmations that Stark was seen drinking or that he was drinking. Miss Macon reported that she was not close enough to smell alcohol on Mr. Stark, though she did comment on his rumpled, unshaven, and sloppy appearance."

"Wow. There you have it. Looks like Tony Stark is having trouble. More updates when we get them. And now on to another breaking story…"

Pepper’s mouth tightened, turning the TV off. Her eyes flicked towards Tony’s room. Where the man was asleep. Yes. He was sober. No, that probably wasn’t exactly a mercy right now. Yes, Pepper was proud of him anyway. Yes, she was also furious. But Tony was a wreck. And when Tony was a wreck, everyone around him had to be twice as on the ball just to help him keep it together.

"Miss Potts," Natasha said, dropping down next to her on the sofa.

"Dammit, Nat," Pepper gasped, jumping and giving her a tired glare. "I wish you wouldn’t do that…"

"Sorry."

"No you’re not."

"What are we doing about Stark?"

"Isn’t that the question," Pepper mused. "What are we doing about Tony…"


	27. Shattered American Drreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Could you do like a Great Gatsby au with Steve and Tony. Where they're old lovers but Tony has to marry someone his parents approve of, then somewhere down the line they run into each other again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This deserves like 50k words that I cannot give to it...

They were young. Young things are usually foolish, though  not of choice, and young things, as they always are, are written over by experience and necessity and the rules of society. 

Hence Steve went off to war with many a backward glance. And Tony married Miranda because her wealth came from old money and she was a sharp society bride. 

Fifteen years later, Tony sees his wife as frequently as he sees the bottom of a glass of brandy. He's busy. She's at parties. It's probably better they didn't have children. 

Then Tony sees the lights on at the old Conway mansion. Sitting in his office, he'd grabbed a fresh bottle, frowning at the sight of it through the window, across the water. It had been empty for years. When the sun came up the next day, Tony took the boat out, cutting through the water. Curiosity idle, he passed the house, seeing all sorts of moving trucks around, people milling about. Inviting himself to the dock, Tony tied his boat and then strode up towards the house. "Who's moved in?" he asked one of the moving men. He didn't know, so Tony found another and repeated his question.

"Rogers," the man shrugged, like that were supposed to mean something.

Tony felt his heart clench. "Rogers. What Rogers?"

"Tony?"

Tony sucked in a breath, whirling, hands still casually in his pockets, stuck. He blinked at Steven Rogers, heart beating fast. The sun was hot. Hot, so hot. The jacket hadn't been a good idea. "Ste--" He coughed, trying again. "Steve."

"You alright there?" Steve hurried forward, dressed in a fine suit. Fine shoes, fine suit. Fine shirt. Soft dove grey, looking gorgeous as the sun made his hair look like spun gold, jaw firmer than Tony had seen last, chest and shoulders broader.

"Fine..." Tony said faintly as the world went spotty and then dark.

\- - - - - -

"...y? Tony? Tony. Are--can you hear me? You with me, my... uh Back with me?"

Blinking, Tony looked up at a ceiling that wasn't his and frowned, looking to the source of the voice. "Steve...." he said, lips and tongue curling around the name with such fondness. Steve's mouth smiled in response, cheeks pinking before he cleared his throat and looked to his left where another man sat, the expression faltering and turning smooth and bland. Oh.

"Tony. This is Doctor Banner. You fainted." And before Tony could protest that he doesn't faint, Steve went on. "You need to eat and drink something besides liquor," he chastised. 

So Tony made his usual protests, was put upon to eat. And he lounged in Steve's bed--the only one assembled thusfar--and spent an altogether very pleasant afternoon with him catching up.

And it became a thing. Tony jetted across the lake and joined Steve for dinner, more often than not his eyes feasting upon his form and drinking in his words than tasting any of the food that, compared to Steve, was tasteless and boring.

Until, over a nightcap, Steve leaned across their laps on the sofa and kissed Tony.

Going pale, Tony jerked back. "I... I'm married!" he blurted, having nearly forgotten that fact himself.

Steve's expression turned stricken, like he'd been betrayed. "Oh..." he breathed, shoulders slumping. "You didn't... You hadn't said. You--"

Tony surged forward, kissing Steve, knowing he was already damned. And he would take whatever made him happy. For as long as he could keep his grip on it.


	28. Your Poor Ego, My Liege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merthur;Instead of marrying Gwen, Arthur made Merlin court sorcerer

"Well…" Merlin said, lying on Arthur’s bed, looking at the ceiling casually. "I guess you’ve just lowered your chances of anyone going against you."

Arthur looked up from his food, sitting at the table. He frowned at him faintly, eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean, Merlin?”

Merlin rolled onto his belly, the sheet tangling around him, baring his hip. He grinned at Arthur. “Well. Me as court sorcerer? No one’s going to dare attack Camelot.”

Arthur put his fork down, his brow slowly furrowing into Indignant. “I beg your pardon?”

"You know. You’re protected."

"Merlin," Arthur said archly, spine straightening and hands pressing flat against the table. "You wouldn’t happen to be saying that my army is useless, would you?"

"Oh of course not," Merlin continued on blithely, staring at Arthur from the corner of his eye as he slowly wound him up. "Just that now that you’ve declared me court sorcerer, no one is going to attack you."

"You’re not  _that_ necessary,” Arthur said stoutly. 

"Well, I mean, you don’t even have to march out to battle. I can just…" Merlin twirled a finger in the air, flames licking along his skin and dissipating in the air.

"Don’t  _do_  that!” Arthur snapped. “You’ll catch something on fire!”

"Well I can always…" Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as water dripped down Arthur’s neck, making him yowl. Merlin very much did  _not_  snicker.

"Stop it!" he demanded.

"Yes, Sire." Merlin grinned cheekily at him.

Arthur glared at him, tensing. He leapt up and sprinted at Merlin.

Eyes going wide, he fumbled to his knees, getting twisted in the bedding and yelping as he went down, Arthur landing heavily on top of him. 

"I’ll teach  _you_  who’s more powerful in this kingdom!” Arthur threatened, sitting astride him, fingers skirting up Merlin’s sides, the man dissolving in laughter, squirming until they both fell breathless in the sheets.


	29. Bootylicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but the first thing that came to mind was Tony/Pepper - "Do you think you're ready for this jelly?" from Bootylicious

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Okay. Story time. Tony had a debilitating love for all the worst songs of existence. To the point where Pepper would roll her eyes when she looked through his playlist, lips twitching as she struggled not to smile. It was almost better when she caught him in his workshop, humming them, or better still,  _singing_  them, lyrics and all. Because you were a fool if you didn’t think that Tony Stark’s amazing brain didn’t have equally amazing capacity for remembering the stupidest goddamn shit that it didn’t need to  know. Like every lyric to Barenaked Ladies’ song ‘If I Had a Million Dollars.’ Which he did. Twenty times over.

Hence Pepper’s misgivings  _any_  time Tony said, ‘Pepper! You have to hear this song!’ It usually ended with a lack of panache. 

But Pepper’s favourite memory was the time that Tony called her up to his room. They’d just started dating. The lights were low. And as soon as she entered and called his name, a low light came on.

And there was Tony fucking Stark, laying on the bed, Stark naked, eyes cast over his shoulder at her. And he waved her in, grinning. “Do you really think you’re ready?”

"Don’t you dare finish tha—"

"For this jelly?" Tony plowed on and gave his hips a little wiggle, ass jiggling.

It really wasn’t fair when one’s boyfriend had a better ass than you did.


	30. L-O-V-E Spells...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Merlin, Arthur/Merlin (okay if Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, too), Love spell gone awry OR Someone talking in their sleep and revealing... something - feels, crack, smut, humor, all of the above, or ficcer's choice. ;D

Everyone was an idiot. Absolutely, irrevocably an idiot. Besides Merlin (despite Arthur’s insistance).  And. Well. If he were generous, there were some days when Arthur wasn’t an idiot too. As he quietly spelled the ignorant witchling mute, Merlin hustled Arthur out of the room, making some sort of excuse about getting his clothes changed because of the wine Merlin ‘accidentally’ spilled in his lap. 

What he hadn’t counted on was Arthur looking at him with a sudden wonder as soon as they got into the quieter hallway back to Arthur’s chambers. “Merlin…?”

"Yes, Arthur?" he said, nudging him along, not sure why the man was dragging his feet. "Come on. Your room."

Arthur hesitated and then nodded. “Right. Yes. Of course.” And took the lead willingly, dragging Merlin after him by the wrist. Merlin didn’t think anything of it. When the door was shut behind them both, Arthur pushed Merlin up against and kissed him quite solidly.

Merlin, not knowing what else to do, flailed and squeaked, pushing at Arthur, eyes wide.

Arthur pulled back at that, looking at Merlin. “You’re right. The bed.” And then dragged Merlin towards it.

"Ar—Arthur!" Merlin said, digging in his heels. "Wha—oh. The spell." Merlin huffed, understanding all at once. "Right. Well. You’ll… Here. You sleep it off. And I’ll…make sure no one comes in." He pushed Arthur towards the bed. "Into bed now, sire. Come on…"

Arthur grinned at him, a heated thing. “I’ll only sleep if you’re with me.”

Sighing, Merlin climbed into the bed, resigned. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining this to him when Arthur woke again.


	31. Sound of Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria teaching Tony to play piano

"And this is your basic scale," Maria said gently, demonstrating, her fingers moving up the keys easily. "Starting from centre C, then to D, E, F, G, then to A again." She smiled at three year old Tony. "Now you." She slid to the side, gesturing at the keys.

Frowning, Tony’s tongue poked out, moving up the keys easily, albeit more heavily than his mother. 

"Very good. Point me a C."

Tony did so, grinning at her proudly. 

"Now play me a C, G, A, C, C, B," she instructed, smoothing his hair down. "You’re so good, sweetheart."

Staring at the keys a moment, he quickly played the notes, his pointer finger pressing down on the keys. 

"So smart, my darling boy," she praised, smiling at him and straightening his collar. 

"Maria!" Howard shouted, the door slamming behind him as he came in. 

Tony flinched, quickly hopping down from the piano bench as his mother stood.

"More tomorrow, Tony," Maria said, her smile a bit sad as she stepped back and then headed off to go to Howard.


	32. The Price of Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlets? Right, then... Leverage - Elliot/Hardison/Parker, prompt: Peanut butter. Any rating, smut, crack, fluff, whatever, just no sad ending(?) Please and thank you! <3

Hardison stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his computer. Then sucked in a breath sounding like he was choking, knees going weak. “Wha—”

Looking up from his magazine, Elliot gave him an unimpressed Stare. Parker didn’t look up from counting the randomised bills, head pillowed on Elliot’s thigh.

"Wha—" Hardison stuttered again, looking at them and then gesturing wildly at his computer space. "What is—"

"Use your words," Elliot prompted, still impressively unimpressed.

"Why is there  _peanut butter_  on my  _keyboard_!” he screeched. “Elliot. Parker? You know. Now you  _know_  how important my computer is. I  _know_  you know. Y’all know how much—”

"It was me," Parker said lightly, licking her fingers and looking at him finally.

Making a pained noise, Hardison waved his hands around at her. “ _Why_!”

"It was an accident," she said, shrugging.

“ _Parker_. You. You. My  _keyboard_!”

Elliot just laughed softly, shaking his head as Parker licked her fingers. The new keyboard, he knew, ergonomic and pricey, would arrive tomorrow. Not that he’d tell Hardison that. 


	33. Look on the Bright Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stony, "c'mon, c'mon, with everything falling down around me, I'd like to believe in all the possibilities"

The entire building was going to collapse in on itself any second now. The flames were scorching and even Steve could feel his skin blistering and rehealing and reblistering. “Tony!” he screamed hoarsely, coughing and peering through the smoke. But then Steve was flying forward, grunting from the hard kick to his back. Tumbling into charred wood, Steve rolled to his feet, fists up. He’d lost his shield somewhere, knocked aside by Tony’s fist. Well. Whoever was wearing Tony’s body’s fist. “Tony!” Steve pleaded. “Tony,  _please_. Come on. I know you’re in there. Fight!” He needed to get out of here. He needed to get out and bring Tony out with him. 

Eyes alight with some manic intent, Tony stepped out from the smoke, hands glowing. Magic. Tony’s least favourite, he knew. Steve coughed, his eyes watering. “Tony,  _please_!” Steve pleaded. Tony was one of the most stubborn men he knew. He knew Tony would come through. Steve charged. Another round of Steve getting thrown into burning debris and he struggled to get up. Tony’s feet came into the edges of his vision. A fist to his ear had Steve retching. “Tony…” he coughed as a foot caught him in the ribs. “…you can do it…” Steve fell onto his side, darkness rushing in, the world fading out.

Steve groaned as he woke some time later to clear sky. He looked around, spotting Tony some feet away, knees pulled up to his chest, arms locked around them. 

"You okay…?" he asked dully. 

Steve smiled at him tiredly, heart feeling light. “You did it…”


	34. And a Kiss to Make it Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stony prompt: Tony is working on some billionaire genius tech in his lab with Jarvis and something goes wrong (maybe an explosion idk). Jarvis seems to think its a good idea to call Steve in to nurse the playboys wounds.

"Tony?!" Steve shouted, rushing into the workshop.

Tony whirled, two fingers in his mouth, eyes wide. "-ege?" is what he managed, mouth busy with sucking the blood off of his ring and middle finger. Tony coughed and pulled them out, trying again. "What's the matter?"

Steve looked around, a wrinkle building between his brows. "I... What  _is_  the matter?" he asked. "JARVIS said you were... I... What?"

"JARVIS said I was what..." Tony asked slowly, grabbing a shop towel to wrap around his fingers.

"JARVIS said you were hurt?" Steve said, still poised to rush in and rescue Tony if he needed to. "Are--you should use a clean towel..."

"It's just a cut," Tony said casually. "Grabbed the sharp end of a piece of sheet metal. Turns out if you forget gloves, then it's going to cut your fragile human skin," he snorted.

Steve heaved a sigh, walking over, now that he was assured that Tony wasn't bleeding out or dying. But he did grab some clean paper towels and then pulled away Tony's dirty shop towel. "Let me."

"My hero..." Tony drawled. 

"Stop it," Steve muttered in response, grabbing Tony's water bottle and wetting a towel, wiping Tony's hand clear. "You probably won't need stitches. Got any butterfly bandages in that first aid kit?"

Tony gestured to where it sat in an open cabinet across the room. And then did not blatantly stare at Steve's ass as he crossed the room. Steve returned and disinfected Tony's fingers before carefully bandaging them up. While he was staring at Tony's hand, Tony arched a brow, amused smile playing about his lips. "Gonna kiss it better, Cap?" Tony wet his lips when there was no response. "Cap...?"

Steve looked up at him and then slowly lifted Tony's hand towards his mouth. "That doesn't actually do anything, you know." Then kissed the bandages.

Dry-mouthed, Tony swallowed. "Placebo effect..." he said weakly.

Steve gave him a quick flash of a smile before standing and slowly walking out of the workshop. He paused at the doorway, giving Tony one last look over his shoulder.

And let it be said that Tony  _never_  turned down a come-hither look. Specifically when it came from Steve Rogers.


	35. The Gentler Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Superhusbands femslash

Stella is certainly a walking wet dream. Tony can't help it. She stares and stares, pretending she's looking at her phone, pretending she's thinking other things, safe behind her shades. But really? Stella's strong arms, her stupidly long lashes, the way her hair gets these little frizzies when she works out. 

In retrospect, Tony would probably have to admit it's a lot more like love than lust at this point. But she teases Stella all the same, admires her round ass and her fucking fantastic rack. Tony knew jealousy had never become her, stuck with the little bee-stings she's stuck with. But that's fine. She's got what she's got so she owns it. 

It's not her fault that Stella breaks an ankle and Tony volunteers to get her back to bed. She regrets only that Stella's so fucking solid. Thicker middle, broad hips, solid torso, power thighs. Tony wants to throw her down and sit on her face. Or hell. Bury her own face between Stella's thighs and--

"Tony, you really don't have to look after me. I can manage myself..."

Jolting out of her thoughts, Tony heads over to her on the bed, handing off the fresh t-shirt. "Nonsense, gorgeous. I'm here to help. What do you need? Sweats? Fresh underwear? Socks? Water? Anything."

Stella huffs and shakes her head, cheeks pink. She puts on the fresh t-shirt, wearing a sports bra underneath the old one. Tony doesn't get much of a view.  "I'm  _fine_. Honestly! You can go. I'll let JARVIS know if I need something from a physical person?"

"You sure? I am a jack of all trades. Shoulder massage? Gatorade? Those weird cookies you like? A hot body to rub off on? Coffee? Tea?" Tony blabbers on, pausing when Stella gave her a wide-eyed look. "What?"

Laughing nervously, Stella shakes her head, hair looking tangled. "Nothing. Never mind. I... I should probably sleep..." she mutters.

"Can I brush your hair?" Tony asks, eyes widening. She keeps her hair short. It's out of the way that way. It looks more severe in the conference room. But Stella's... Golden and loose curls and long--Tony doesn't know how she does it.

Stella sighs. "Fine. Brush my hair, Tony. You're... You probably need sleep too. You're almost manic..."

Tony climbs up on the bed behind Stella, having grabbed a brush. "I'm good." Kneeling, she begins to pull the brush through Stell's curls, making them neat and tidy. Stella lets out a soft noise of pleasure, her posture going loose and relaxed. Brushing her hair over her shoulder, Tony leans in, hesitating only a moment before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, just above the t-shirt collar.

Stella's breath hitches, going still, practised still.

"Sorry," Tony mutters, pulling back. "Sorry. God. That was stupid. I'm sorry. I don't want to make it weird. I'm really sorry. I'm so--"

"Tony," Stella interrupts her, twisting and putting a hand over Tony's mouth. "It's fine."

Blinking several times, Tony cocks her head. "Wait. When you say it's fine, you me--"

"I mean if you continue, I'm not going to be complaining at all," Stella says, voice soft and warm. Her cheeks are pink and she looks so damn sweet that Tony wants to devour her and mess her up again. 

"Don't tell me that if you don't mean it," Tony warns her, just as soft. 

"I mean it," Stella replies. She takes the brush and tugs Tony down, falling back into the bed herself. 

It leaves Tony flush on top of Stell. With the minutest amount of shifting, Tony can slot her leg between Stella's and presses her thigh up. It draws a surprised noise from her favourite super soldier, Tony rocking against Stella's thigh. Pushing the fresh t-shirt up, Tony pushes the sports bra up, Stella's breasts loose now. Despite Stella's murmured noises and obvious flush, Tony latches on to a nipple, worrying the bud between her teeth and sucking at it. Stella's big hands come up, one curling over her ass, hauling her closer to rock against more insistently, the other settling at the small of her back. 

"Tony..." Stella breathes, bucking her hips up against Tony's thigh. "I... Wow. This is..."

"Too fast?" Tony says, immediately pulling back.

Stella blinks at her. "A little?" she says, shifting on the bed. "Can... God. This is terrible. I'm... Can we...finish? And then talk? You've got my head all fuzzy and all I can think about is your fingers," she admits, face red.

"Oh my fingers, is it?" Tony purrs, smile going wicked. "I'll have to introduce you to my tongue next time..." And then makes sure that her fingers are intimately acquainted with Stella. Twice. Tony gets off when Stella presses her fingers up against her, through her underwear. But then lays against her, panting. "Good enough?"

After a moment, Stella replies, "Enough...?" Shakes her head. "I'm... I can't move for the rest of the ni--oh my God, that's disgusting!" Stella protests, watching Tony lick her fingers clean. "How--" She groans and turns her face into the pillow. Peeks. Hides again. 

"Relax, gorgeous. We'll talk in the morning. Yeah?" Tony says gently, straightening Stella's rumpled clothing and smoothing her hair back. "Get some sleep. We'll hash out the details in the morning. I want more than a one-time thing, just to set that bit at ease..." Tony murmurs, pulling the covers over them, body feeling loose and relaxed, drifting off to sleep, laying on top of the other woman. 


	36. Living Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promt: STEVE TRYING TO CALM DOWN A DRUNKEN, FREAKING OUT, HORRIBLE-FLASHBACK-WAILING TONY

The more Steve reached for Tony, the more his husband shrank back and tried to get away. "Tony,  _please_!" Steve begged, getting a hand on his ankle. Hunching so that he appeared smaller, Steve got a wrist. And promptly saw stars as he was clocked in the face. Falling back, Steve swore. He didn't regret the hand-to-hand lessons, but fuck, Tony had learned well. Tony had gotten him low on the jaw, fist having hit over Steve's carotid as well. He coughed and grabbed for Tony clumsily before he sprinted off.

"Tony!" Steve shouted again, trying to get him to just  _hear_  him. "Tony! It's 2017! You're in New York! You're safe! You're--" Steve grit his teeth, grabbing Tony by the t-shirt and pulling him in close against his chest. "Can--Tony, I'm right here!" Steve winced as Tony's nails dragged down his bare back, tugging at his hair. "Fuck! As prou--can you-- _Tony--_ fighting dirty--I'm trying to help! I'm impressed, bu--" Steve hadn't seen him this bad. Ever. Pushing his husband back into the sheets, Steve kissed him. Tony froze, Steve relaxing in perceived victory--he didn't know if that'd work. Until he was kneed in the balls.

Groaning, Steve curled in and gripped himself, one hand still around Tony's ankle. "To...ny..." Steve said, voice tight and high.

Tony's flailing and fighting slowed, his unfocused eyes slowly tracking to Steve. 

"Tony...?" Steve said again, hopeful, groaning in pain.

"Steve...?" Tony said hoarsely, slow as he pulled his arms in tight, hands pressed over the arc reactor. "What..."

"Flashback..." Steve supplied.

Paling, Tony made a pained noise and reached out for Steve. "Fuck... What happened? Did I--"

"Just kneed me in the balls..." Steve said, giving him a weak smile.

"Shit! Sweetheart, I'm--"

"Don't apologise," Steve interrupted quickly, getting his legs under him to kneel. "I'll be fine. Just... I'm impressed. You fought... You learned well. And fought dirty..." He grimaced as the skin pulled on his back. "If it had been anyone but me, I'm sure you'd have gotten away."

Tony's face was pained, cupping Steve's face, pulling his hand back when his husband winced. "Steve.... Steve, you--"

He shook his head, leaning in and kissing Tony lightly. "I was impressed. Are you okay now?"

Tony went pliant in Steve's arms, smoothing a hand down his chest. "I'm sorry."

"I'm fine. I'll be fine. I'm more concerned about you."

Tony shook his head. "Nightmare. I'll be okay... Thanks, Steve."

"I love you."

"You know I love you too," Tony told him. "Shit... You need an ice pack or neosporin or anything...?"

Laughing softly, Steve wrapped an arm around him and tipped them back into the pillows. "I'll be fine. I think we could both nap a little while. It's early yet. Hm?"

Snuggling close to Steve, Tony nodded, wrapping an arm around him. "I like that plan."

"Man with the plan, right?" Steve murmured, oddly reassured that Tony would do a damn good job of protecting himself if he were caught outside the suit.

 


	37. It's Not My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Superhusbands, broke into the wrong apartment AU, skinny!steve. It's not his fault he does it again, really - the guy in 4b smells amazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This was really hard to write, because I couldn’t think of anything good enough. This is precious.)

 

So Tony maybe had a bit of trouble doing things that needed to be done when he was focusing. Like locking the door. So when he woke up and found that skinny kid from 4C he’d seen a couple times laying with him on his sofa, face buried in his armpit, Tony blinked. “Um,” he said importantly. 

Skinny didn’t move, grunting as he was shifted. 

"Um," Tony said again, trying to search out a name after a four day inventing-binge. Stanley? Sean? Ste—Steve. It was Steve. "Hey. 4C."

Steve grunted again, one hand coming up and (adorably) rubbing at his face, blinking up at Tony, looking equally confused. “Aw hell…” he mumbled, sitting up, kindly not kneeing Tony in the crotch. “I… shit. Shit, sorry…” And promptly scrambled off him, face going cherry red. “Sorry!” he blurted, running out of the apartment like Cinderella from her ball. Save… Tony knew where to find him. But it was too early. So he shook his head and dozed off again.

~ ~ ~ ~

Steve panted in his apartment, door slammed shut behind his back. “Oh God. Oh my…” He sucked in a deep breath, holding it before releasing it to calm himself down. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Bucky looked up from the sofa, playing his video games. “Done what?”

"I accidentally walked into Tony’s apartment. And slept there," Steve said, going over and dropping onto the sofa next to his room mate. "I didn’t mean to."

"That guy you’ve been crushing on all this time?" Bucky asked with a grin.

Steve scowled, face going red. “I… No. No, I wasn’t… It was… I was out. With Sam and Tasha. And I got…tipsy. And accidentally—it’s not my fault! The apartments have the same layout!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Except, two weeks later, Steve did it again. He walked into Tony’s apartment instead of his own, his head full of the smell of him. He’d jacked off in the shower a couple times, just thinking about it. Grease mixed with sweet and musky cologne. A little bit of sweat and fire. Drunk, he crawled on top of Tony on the same sofa and buried his face in his neck, relaxing into sleep. Steve woke before Tony this time and split.

But another week and a half and Steve did it again. He drank on purpose this time, knowing he’d never have the guts to go in if he didn’t. Tony wasn’t on the sofa this time, but Steve stayed anyway, buried in Tony’s clothes and a blanket that smelled like him. 

"You know…" Tony’s voice mumbled next to his ear when Steve woke the next morning. "If you’re going to keep doing this, it may as well be after sex…"

Steve twitched, except… Tony was on top of him, weighing him down. Which…was hot. He swallowed thickly to wet his throat. “Uh.”

"Unless this is some really weird sleep-walking thing…"

"You don’t lock your door…" Steve mumbled.

Tony laughed. “Uh huh. So that’s your excuse…?”

Steve pushed his face into Tony’s chest, knowing it was red. “I… You smell really good…”

"Hm. So… Maybe don’t come in drunk next time? Bring flowers? Or dinner?" Tony said, voice warm and teasing.

"Yeah… Yeah, okay," Steve agreed, lips stretching into a thrilled smile.


	38. Death of a Coffee Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I'd love to see anything ot3 related with the boys in a college au. Sorry it's not much of a prompt but oh gosh I love Steve/tony/Bucky aus <3

"Hey Buck," Steve said, stepping into their apartment. Much nicer than anything they could have afforded on their own. "Where's Tony?"

Bucky, supine on the sofa with a leg hooked up over the back of it, looked away from his phone and shrugged. "Hiding in his room?"

Steve set his backpack down, arching a brow. "He need a reason to hide?"

"He may or may not have broke the coffee maker," Bucky said casually, not taking his eyes off his phone. 

Steve groaned. "Again...? Dammit...!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Came the faint shout from Tony's bedroom. 

Sighing, Steve rolled his eyes and nudged Buck over on the sofa to curl up alongside him. "Tony, get on out here..." Steve called without any ire. It was a few minutes, but he heard the door open, the soft pad of feet, Tony sighing. "C'mere..." Steve mumbled, face turning into Bucky's shoulder. 

Tony sighed again and then crawled up over Steve and Bucky, laying on top of them. "Sorry..."

"You know it's not a big deal, right?" Bucky drawled. 

"You always fix it anyways, Tony," Steve added, too tired from studio to really get riled up about it. He tugged his arm from beneath Tony to wrap it around him. "Nap...?" he asked, almost plaintive.

"Nap," Tony agreed, sounding all too relieved at not being yelled at. 

"Lazybones..." Bucky accused. Though he pocketed his phone and rolled a bit to get an arm around Tony and pulled his other arm from beneath him to pillow his own head. 

Steve laughed softly. "Shaddup, Buck... You hypocrite... Last person asleep calls for pizza when we wake up."

"Deal," the other two chorus, Tony burrowing into them, Bucky exhaling slowly and going slack as the three of them cuddle together and slowly drift off. 

 


	39. What You Don't Know Can't Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.

"Steve!" Tony said brightly when Steve answered his phone.

"Tony?" 

"Busy?"

"A little," Steve said, now pacing across the mats of the gym, pausing in his workout with Natasha. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. I just wanted to give you a call. You know. Say hi."

Steve's lips twitched, a fond expression stealing over his face. "You're dodging a meeting, aren't you."

Tony laughed, soft and breathless on the other end. "Maybe. I really just wanted to know what you're wearing."

Head tossed back, Steve laughed. "You're terrible! Absolutely terrible! I--"

"I love you," Tony said, a little too intent.

"Yeah," Steve said softly. "I love you too. Always, Tony."

"I'm the luckiest guy in the world for it. How did I get so lucky..."

"Fates on your side or something," Steve said, leaning against the ropes, Natasha shaking her head as she bent to stretch.

"Right... Yeah, if only, right? Hey. We should go out. Do something different. I'd suggest ice skating. If, you know, it weren't the middle of the summer..."

"Tony... Go back to your meeting. I'll see you when you get home," Steve chastised with another laugh.

"I love you, Steve," Tony told him again.

"I know, babe. I love you too," Steve said, face warm and heart so full of it, it felt like his chest were expanding.

"I love you. Always, always. I'm so lucky," Tony said, a little softer. "Love you, Steve. Never forget."

"I don't think I can," Steve teased, grinning widely and jumping a couple times just to keep loose. "See you when you get home. We'll plan something."

"Definitely. Love you, Steve. Take care." 

Call time 2:14:03. 2:28 PM

Steve grinned, cheered, turning back to Natasha. "Okay. Let's go."

~ ~ ~ ~

**Tony Stark, Killed in Car Accident, Age 51**

**The world's most well-known businessman-cum-superhero died yesterday in a car accident around 2:30 PM. Foul play is suspected, the rear tires blowing out causing a head on collision with the lane divider. The inventor managed to save his driver, Harold Hogan, but was pierced with crumpled metal from the collision, dislodging the arc reactor technology in his chest he always carefully guarded.**

**The world w i l l   a   l    w   a   y    s       r    e    m      e       m       b     e       r    .     .       .         .**


	40. They All End in -Y

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper/tony - "Must be a day ending in y."

“I hurt...” Tony grumbled, curled over his desk, staring at Pepper through the Twin Towers of Paperwork.

“Must be a day ending in -y,” Pepper drawled, checking something off on her clipboard. “What is it this time?”

“My back hurts. And this stupid cut on my cheek... Every time I smile.”

“Guess you just won’t have to smile,” Pepper said, her lips twitching that said she wanted to laugh or smile but was refraining.

“But I always smile when I tour R&D...” Tony complained. This time Pepper did laugh, Tony grinning in response like it was a victory. “You should kiss it and make it better.”

She laughed louder. “Are you four?” But she rose and walked around the desk, kissing Tony’s cheek, her hand sliding over his back. “C’mon. Finish up early and we can go home early,” Pepper murmured against his ear. 

Straightening, Tony grinned at her, kissing her briefly. “Feel better already!”

 


	41. If I Were Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Tony, "I can never unsee that."

Steve said flatly, one hand covering his eyes as he stood in the middle of the workshop.

“I...can explain?” Tony said, quickly trying to reason out a viable excuse for why he would be shaving his legs, in a thong, ass up in the air while he bent into the bucket of water that he was using to help him shave. The red wig of thick locks that hung down past his shoulders was maybe the final touch.

“You know what? I don’t even want to hear an explanation,” Steve said. “Don’t even want to hear an explanation. That’s. Yeah. Don’t--”

“No, I can. Really,” Tony insisted, pulling the wig off and straightening. “It’s not like this is--”

“Tony. Don’t even. I can tell your ass is shaved,” Steve continued.

“I....yeah. Yeah, okay. Maybe there isn’t any good.. I’ll.... Sorry?” he rambled, a little embarrassed. 

“Sorry’s a good place to start.”

“Is you taking off my underwear a good place to continue?” 

Steve could just  _hear_  the grin in Tony’s voice. “Oh my God...” Steve said faintly. “You are the worst. Really, Tony. The absolute worst.” Though what was really the worst was that his face was heating up and he was sure his Irish skin was showing exactly how embarrassed he was. 

“Or shall I take it off for you?”

“Tony!” Steve yelped, his hand finally coming away, lurching forward to grab Tony’s wrists to still him if necessary. “You--” Only Tony was wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt now. Steve blinked. “Oh.”

“Disappointed, Captain?” Tony asked, turning and strutting towards his liquor cabinet with a coy grin over his shoulders.

Steve was very surprised to find that, yeah. Yeah he was a little.


	42. Done it Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Tony - You’re a ghost who’s trying to get to the after life so I’m helping you out but I fell in love and now I don’t want you to go but it’s too late.

“Steve?” Tony called, wetting his lips as he wandered through the apartment. “You still here?” He called to the open air of the old house. Of course Steve was still there.

“Here, Tony,” the house seemed to sigh as the space in front of him shimmered and Steve appeared, thin and frail and so kind. 

Tony grinned at him. His heart clenched. “I found her. Peggy?”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “You did?” he demanded, drifting closer.

“Yeah--”

“How was she? What did she say?” Steve demanded, the floorboards creaking and shifting.

“Easy,” Tony soothed. “You... You know, I wanted to ask...” He trailed off. That would lead nowhere. “Never mind. I’ll tell you what she said.”

“Wanted to ask what?” Steve asked, cocking his head. He looked so young. Sweet and like he would have been incredibly devoted. 

Tony bit his lip, wanting to blurt his feelings to Steve. Tell him how he would have loved him. How he never would have let him be alone. How he would have cared for him and encouraged him and treated him well. Would have protected him in any way he could.

“Come on Tony. Just tell me. Please?” Steve pleaded, eyes wide and blue and watery.

“Right,” Tony rasped. “Right. I’m sorry. I... Yeah. Sure thing. Peggy said she lived a happy, fulfilling life. She got married. She had kids. Loved her grandchildren. And she loved you, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes watered, biting his lip. “Thank you...” he breathed as a faint glow surrounded him. 

“Steve?!” Tony blurted, his heart suddenly thundering through his chest. “Steve!”

“What?” Steve focused in on him, frowning. “Tony...? I can hardly... What are you saying?”

“Steve!” Tony choked out. “I would hav--”

“What?” Steve cupped a hand to his ear out of reflex, growing brighter. “Louder! There’s all this noise!”

“There’s no noise, Ste--I would have lo--” Tony sucked in a breath as everything got too bright. When he cracked his eyes, the light was gone. But so was Steve. Tony’s shoulders slumped. To the emptiness of the house, he breathed, “I would have loved you right.”


End file.
